Forgotten Birthdays
by AJCrane
Summary: Tim has been adopted by Bruce Wayne and it is a month after Jacob Drake's funeral. Tim has only been living at the Manor for a month. While exploring the manor he comes upon the library and discovers some old photo albums. Memories abound. Alfred finds the boy and discovers the true reason for his tears. This story has gotten longer than anticipated.
1. Remembering

_**A/N: Here is a Birthday story. I decided that Tim was going to share my birthday, which happens to be today. Tim is 15 (now 16 – Birthday Sept. 22). Reference to The Will.  
**_

Forgotten Birthdays

By

AJ

Part 1

Tim Drake-Wayne was wondering around the manor. It was early Sunday morning and not everyone was awake yet. It was just a month ago that Bruce had officially become his adopted father from Jake Drake, his father's last wishes in his will. He hadn't really explored it that much since he became Robin. Since he lived with his parents before they . . . well he though there had been no need to explore the manor . . . until now.

Tim came across the library and his eyes became wide as saucers. This was amazing. He never expected to see so many books. He mostly limited himself to the ones that he already owned and placed in the room that Alfred set aside for him. The library was larger than his parents' library, now his. The Drake Manor felt so empty that he didn't spend much time there. Early on, when he started his crime fighting days as Robin, he found a tunnel that connected his parents' mansion in the Bristle area of Gotham to the caves and that tunnel connected to the Bat Cave. Today, he was up in the Manor and in the library. As he explored he came across a small area that was filled with photo albums. He pulled one off the shelf and opened it. Inside were pictures of Dick when he was much younger. In fact, it reminded him of when he first met Dick. Those images were still strong in his mind. He still had the photo that his parents took of him when he was only three. He was sitting on Dick's lap. Thinking on that moment, it felt natural, as if he belonged there, but he couldn't put his finger on why.

Flipping through the pages, he saw Dick at 10 years old, having a birthday party. There were faces that he recognized all too well. He wondered at that moment where he was during that time.

'Oh yeah, I was in Egypt with my parents,' Tim thought 'My birthday was later spent going to London and to a lecture. Though my father did surprise me with a set of Sherlock Holmes stories.'

Thinking about birthdays, Tim thought about the number of birthdays he celebrated. And then he realized that over the past five years, since he was ten, he hadn't celebrated that many at all. His birthdays seemed to have slipped his parents' minds, especially when they were traveling, and in the past two years, he was so busy being Robin, it even slipped HIS mind.

'Funny, I almost forgot it again.' He looked at the calendar on the desk by the small clock and realized that it was his birthday today. Tears formed in his eyes. He shouldn't feel bad, but in some way, he felt . . . lost. His parents . . . at least his Dad might have remembered . . . if he was alive . . . but . . . now . . . that had all been taken from him and it was only a month since he buried his father.

Tim found his knees bending and he slipped to the floor and buried his face in his knees. Mourning for his father had been second in his mind soon after because he had once again been busy with school and with his duties as Robin. He had shoved his father's death and burial aside . . . so easily . . . there was no time for mourning, but today of all days, how could he not mourn the one person who tried to continue to raise him right after his mother had died. And thinking of his Mother, Tim's tears were doubled. He missed her, too. The one thing he could count on from her was to at least have something special waiting for him at breakfast, but that had been missing for two years now.

Tim let the tears fall, until he could not cry any more. He wasn't aware that someone had been watching him intently with a sad face, but an understanding face as well.

Alfred appeared at the library door when he heard someone crying. It was surprised at first that it was Master Timothy. Why would be crying besides the obvious? It had only been a month since his father's funeral. He silently approached and picked up the photo album and found the page where it had that had fallen open. It was on Dick's birthday party. A scowl appeared on the Alfred's face and he asked himself why would Timothy be looking at this particular image? The boy wasn't in their lives at that time. Then another thought occurred to him and he realized they would have to rectify it immediately. It nearly slipped their minds when Dick first came to live with them. If he could help it Alfred would not let it happen again. He would inform Masters Bruce and Dick immediately, but first he knew what he needed to do right then and there.

Closing the photo album, he replaced it on the shelf then stated, "Good Morning Master Timothy. What would you like for breakfast on this fine morning?"

"Um Alfred? I didn't hear you come in," Tim said, as he quickly wiped the tears from his face to keep the old butler from finding out that he had been crying.

Alfred didn't acknowledge that he knew that Tim had been crying. Instead he stated, "Well, I always ask my charges what they would like for breakfast . . . especially since it is a special day."

"Special day?" Tim asked.

"Yes," Alfred stated. "On Dick's special day, I created a waffle bar for him. Would you like that?"

"A waffle bar? On Dick's . . ." Tim's eyes became wide. Was Alfred really referring to . . . no it couldn't be . . . could he actually know?

"Yes, every Birthday should have something special on it, don't you think?"

"Um yeah."

"I can have the waffle bar set up within the hour. Is there anything special that you would like to go with them?"

"Gee, I'm not sure." Tim replied.

"Then I shall surprise you," Alfred answered. "And Happy Birthday Master Timothy."

"Thanks Alfred. I was afraid that . . . that no one would remember."

"I assure you Master Timothy, no one will forget," Alfred stated. 'So long as I am around.'

Continues with Part 2

**A/N: Why did Tim feel that sitting on Dick's lap felt right, that he belonged there? There will be a second part to this story. Stay tuned.**


	2. Stiffing Through

Forgotten Birthdays

By

AJ

Part 2

Alfred was true to his word. He set up a waffle bar for Tim and he immediately went and saw Bruce in regards to Tim's birthday plans. Knowing Tim's interest, Bruce took Tim to the largest computer and electronics store he could find.

"Get anything you want Tim," Bruce said. "After this, we can do whatever you want."

Alfred also contacted Dick. They ended up having lunch at one of Tim's favorite restaurants and when they returned back to the Manor, there were other surprises waiting for Tim. Members of the Teen Titans had stopped by to wish Tim a happy birthday and to also give him some thoughtful gifts.

'I thought . . . I thought everyone had forgotten," Tim exclaimed.

"We'd never forget about you," Donna Troy stated.

Conner handed his gift. "Besides, I remembered last year how great Alfred's cake was."

It was a birthday that Tim would never forget despite the fact that his parents were no longer with him. Bruce later gave Tim a special gift that belonged to his father, another pair of cufflinks similar to the pair that he had given Dick. The star sapphire cabochon birthstones were different and striking in their own way, and they matched Tim's eyes perfectly. Dick's were cut sapphire, slightly darker in color, but still striking in their intensity.

After his birthday, Tim decided to go home to his parent's house and begin cleaning out his father's things. He realized that eventually he would have to face the fact that his parents' estate had to be taken care of. He didn't know if he would keep the house, but all his father's paperwork would have to be sorted through and decided upon.

"Do you need any help?" Dick asked, having had to do the same thing when his parents had died, but on a smaller scale.

"Yeah, I might need help with some of the boxes. My father saved a lot of things from his travels."

"What do you think you'll do with all of it?"

"Some of it I might keep. I think I'll give some of it to Bruce. He might like the antique weapons that my father collected. Then there are some of the museum pieces. I really should donate those."

"Sounds to me like your parents really were the world travellers."

"Don't forget I traveled with them, too from time to time," Tim stated. "In fact, there's something here I think you might like."

Tim went to his old room and opened the closet. He took out a small stool to reach the shelf and pulled down a box covered in dust. "I don't know why I kept it. Maybe to reminded me of that night. My parents bought it for me before . . ." Tim handed the box to Dick. "That is, I'm hoping you like it."

Dick opened the box and nestled in tissue paper was a small ceramic elephant with the Haley's Circus logo on the side. On top of the elephant was a boy dressed in red and green, waving to the crowd.

"Tim, this is . . . This is incredible. I haven't seen one of these in . . . I don't even think Haley . . . Gosh . . . Thank you. I really do love it."

Tim gave Dick a smile, pleased that the small gift was to his liking. "Well, we better get to tackling those boxes in my father's office. They aren't going to open themselves."

Going through his father's boxes was a monumental job. There were papers going back years. A lot were related to Drake Industries, which surprised Tim. He was now the owner of his father's company and he hadn't had time to even check in with whomever worked for his father. As he was cleaning out the back of the closet, Tim came across a decorative wooden box that he barely remembered seeing as a child. He recalled his father had it on his desk once when he came in. He was about eight years old and he asked his father about it.

"Dad, what's that?"

"Oh, just a box containing some personal items," Jake Drake answered his son. "Nothing for you to be concerned about."

Tim could barely see inside the box and he noticed there were a bunch of envelopes with unusual stamps. He had been into stamp collecting back then.

"Can I see the stamps?" Tim asked. "They look really cool."

"Tell you what. I'll give you some of the stamps later."

"Okay."

Tim remembered he father did give him a stamp or two later, but after that, he never saw the box again. He knew there were more letters in the box than the number of stamps his father had given him, but he never asked about the box and what happened to it.

'Looks like I found the box,' Tim thought. 'I wonder why my father hid it.'

Tim opened the box and found what appeared to be a birth certificate on top. Curious he opened it.

"What the hell?

Continues with Part 3


	3. Discoveries and Discussion

**A/N: This story is turning out to be longer than I thought it would. In **_**Robin: To Kill A Bird**_**, Bruce offers to adopt Tim. Tim is overwhelmed by the prospect. His stepmother Dana is in the hospital recovering. In the book, she forgets that Jake and Stephanie are both dead, but in my story, she is unaware that Jake has been killed. Stephanie was killed some weeks before though I don't deal with her death in this story.**

**In the book, Tim tries to put off Bruce on agreeing to the adoption due to having to deal with his father's death and his stepmother's recovery. He's moved to Bludhaven where she is hospitalized. It would mean leaving Bludhaven so he finds a way to stay in Bludhaven by cleverly inventing an Uncle (by hiring an actor) and engineering a complete backstory on him. Later Bruce finds out the truth, and rather than fire Tim as Robin, he tells him how proud he is at the way he handled himself. It's a great read and I recommend it. There is more to the story and I would not want to spoil it for anyone. My story is of course slightly different and I've added an additional twist.**

TDTDTD

Forgotten Birthdays

By

AJ

Part 3

Tim opened the birth certificate and read the name. It looked like his birth certificate, but there was something odd about it. He read the birth date, but the time was wrong. He was born at 7:25 PM, not 11:10 AM. Then a shudder ran through him when he read a little further and discovered the discrepancy. Not a live birth. What? What did it mean? He was alive, this can't be right.

'Did I have a twin brother?' Tim questioned. 'If I did, what happened to him? And why did he have the same name as me?'

"Tim, is everything all right?"

"Yeah Dick, I'm all right," Tim replied, quickly. He didn't want Dick finding out at that moment just what he had learned. He needed time to digest the information and to find answers. He placed the box back on the floor of the closet then picked up another box and shut the door.

"This is the last box, at least in my father's office," Tim announced.

"What will you do with the house?" Dick asked.

"I don't know right now. I may keep it. I'm not ready to sell it. There's too much here that has to be dealt with. Besides, there's the tunnel."

Almost three years ago, Tim found an access tunnel that led down into the caves. While researching them, he discovered one of them led to the bat cave. Finding the bat cave lead him to deduce Batman's identity and subsequently Jason Todd's and Dick Grayson. When he became Robin, it made for easy access later.

Dick picked up a photo of a blonde woman that was sitting on Jake Drake's desk.

"Oh, no . . . I . . . never," Tim started to panic. "She doesn't know."

"Tim? Who is she?"

"Her name's Dana. She . . . married my dad . . . like three months ago."

"Where is she?" Dick asked.

"She . . . she left when . . . they had a fight."

"If she's your stepmother, why didn't we see her at the funeral?"

Tim didn't answer at first. "Um . . . She couldn't come."

"Tim . . . what aren't you telling me," Dick coaxed.

"She was in an accident. She's been in a coma. She's in a hospital in Bludhaven. It happened before my dad was killed. I haven't been able to see her since . . ."

"Tim . . . Tim take it easy," Dick stated. "If you want to go see her you can."

"But what do I tell her? She doesn't know about . . . my dad. Plus, I'm now Bruce's son . . ."

"You'll know what to do."

Tim turned back to the closet and leaned against the desk. The birth certificate that he found was disturbing to say the least, but having to tell Dana . . . his stepmother . . . about his father . . . was a daunting task. Thinking through the process felt even more daunting.

'She's been in a coma for . . . just a few days longer than my dad's been dead. They don't even know if she'll wake up, she's that bad. And I haven't even seen her. And now I learn that Mom had a baby . . . that she gave birth to . . . and called him . . . how do I deal with all of this?'

Tim felt Dick's hand rest on his shoulder. "Look little brother. We've got to tell Bruce. Why didn't you say something about this before?"

"You mean before Captain Boomerang invaded my home," Tim stated. "I tried, but things got real busy."

"Oh yeah," Dick remembered. "Look, I'm sorry Tim. We'll help you through this."

"She can't know that Bruce adopted me," Tim stated.

"Why? It was your father's wish."

"No, it wasn't."

"What do you mean?" Dick questioned.

"I overheard my Dad talking to Dana," Tim explained. "He told her about the will. She blew up at him because he had left everything to me."

"What?"

"She told him that I was too young to inherit everything, that I wouldn't be able to handle the responsibility. She also argued that she was his wife and she should inherit everything . . . I think she called it something like survivorship. The spouse gets everything so they don't have to go through probate."

"How would Dana know about that?"

"She worked as a paralegal at my dad's company. She would go over legal documents to make certain they were in order."

"What did your father say?" Dick asked.

"He said he would change the will, that she was right. He said that he would make her my legal guardian and executor for my father's company until I was old enough to inherit, but . . . he never got the chance."

"So, she has no legal claim on you."

"Not as my executor, no. As my stepmother, maybe. If she survives and finds out about my father's death and the will, she could contest it."

"Oh boy," Dick let out a breath. "So . . . how do you feel about it?"

"I never dreamed in a million years that Bruce would adopt me," Tim stated. "I . . . wow. And you're officially his son, too."

"He declared me his son and heir, yes," Dick stated. "And I signed the agreement . . . but there were no formal adoption procedures. We never went through any agency. He wrote a letter on official Gotham City stationary, signed it and then . . . I signed it, too." Dick remembered the day he signed the paper. "He said it didn't matter whether I signed it or not. It wouldn't change how he felt . . ."

"Dick, how did you feel when Bruce took you in?"

"He was the only person who understood what I was going through because he went through it too," Dick explained. "And yet, I didn't know if I could love someone else like a parent the way I loved my dad. Bruce early on was trying so hard and well, I didn't really make it easy for him. I didn't want him . . . spending money on me, but I learned that he really didn't know how to express his . . . feelings . . . And that was his way of letting me know that he cared."

"Ever since I've known him, Bruce hasn't had trouble expressing his feelings. When did that change?" Tim asked.

"The day he thought I was going to kill myself," Dick said, though he was smiling oddly at the memory.

"WHAT?"

"Don't get me wrong. I wasn't trying to kill myself. I was up in a tree and I longed to be up on that trapeze one more time. I wanted to fly. I saw a hammock nestled between two trees . . ."

"And you jumped . . . "

"Yes . . . And well Bruce didn't see the hammock . . ."

"Oh I bet that freaked him out."

"To say the least . . ." Dick went on. "Anyway, ever since then, well Bruce and I have had this special bond."

"Yeah . . . I noticed . . ." Tim had a smirk on his face.

"Don't get me wrong, Tim," Dick stated. "Just because Bruce and I argue sometimes, we do understand each other. There is one thing. Now that you are his son, too, you'll learn he can be a bit over protective."

"He never seemed that way with me."

"Wait for it. Are we done here?"

"Not yet. To be honest," Tim looked around at all the boxes and briefly at the closet door. "It seems I've just scratched the surface."

"Well, there's always another day," Dick stated.

"Yeah . . . I guess . . . some things can wait a little longer."

"Will you tell Bruce about Dana?"

"Looks like I have no choice. What do you think Bruce will say?"

"Well, you'll just have to find out."

Continues with Part 4


	4. In Limbo

Forgotten Birthdays

By

AJ

Part 4

It was several weeks before Tim could get back to the empty house that used to belong to his father and was now his. He spoke to Bruce about his dilemma with his stepmother earlier. His words actually did give him some comfort and some hope that everything would work out for the best. His thoughts weren't very far off from that day.

"My stepmother is going to be in a very fragile state," Tim stated. "She doesn't even remember the accident. She still thinks my father is alive."

"I don't know what to tell you Tim," Bruce at first stated. "I think you need to do what's best. If that means going to Bludhaven and being with your stepmother until she recovers, then that may be for the best, but eventually, she will have to be told."

"I don't know if I can," Tim said, his emotions on edge.

"You'll do what's right," Bruce stated. "You can't not tell her. She's going to find out, maybe even figure it out when your father's not there or why he hasn't come to see her."

"I know . . . I'm afraid what it might do to her," Tim confessed.

"If it will help, I'll go with you," Bruce offered.

Having Bruce there had been a comfort, and his stepmother was slowly recovering. The look on her face when he did tell Dana broke Tim's heart a second time. Dana just sat there, staring into space, not wanting to believe that it was true.

"You're lying," Dana stated.

"I . . . I'm not . . . Dana," Tim stated. Tears started to stream down his face. He never fully got used to calling her Mom. As far as Tim was concerned, Janet Drake had been his mother. "I'm sorry. I buried him almost two months ago."

"No . . . I won't accept it," Dana continued to deny what Tim was telling her.

"Please," Tim tried to show her the obituary, but instead she tore it from his hands and ripped it in two."

"Mrs. Drake," Bruce tried to coax the woman to calm her. "Tim is not lying. Your husband . . . was murdered."

"NO!" Dana screamed out her anguish.

"I'm sorry, you're going to have to leave now," a nurse came in. "We'll give her a sedative to calm her, but this has been too upsetting for her."

"I . . . I don't understand," Tim stated. "I thought . . ."

"I'm sorry Tim," Bruce stated. "I don't think your stepmother is ever going to accept that your father is gone."

"But . . . What about the adoption? What if she contests it? What if she really believes that my dad isn't dead?"

"We'll deal with it when it comes," Bruce stated. "I think it's best that we leave her alone for a while. Maybe we'll come back in a couple of few days when she's stronger and try again."

Those few days came and went without success. Dana Drake just wasn't willing to accept that Jake Drake was gone. She knew about Stephanie, that happened last year, but trying to get her to believe that Jake Drake was dead was impossible.

"She's got to believe me when he doesn't come to see her," Tim stated. "Eventually it should sink in . . . Will it?"

Tim didn't know the answer. His stepmother could conceivably delude herself into thinking that his father would eventually come for her, and that would leave him in limbo, not knowing what would happen. Bruce may technically be his adopted father, but did he even have that right to adopt him with his stepmother still being alive? And yet his father's will specified that Bruce Wayne adopt him. Even had the papers drawn up before . . .

'It was as if he knew . . . But that was impossible. I never realized just how much my father appreciated . . . even admired . . .I'm missing something.'

Tim's thoughts came back to the present when he reached the house. The door was wide open. He could have sworn he locked the door the last time he visited the house. Had someone broken in? Tim entered cautiously. The house had been ransacked at he feared. He could tell right off the bat that several items had been stolen. He would have to do a full inventory to know what. He didn't really want to call the police over this.

'Maybe I can get Alfred and Bruce to help. Bruce has been here before, along with Dick. They might be able to help me find what items have been stolen.'

Then sudden panic set in when Tim entered his father's old office and found it ransacked. He raced to the closet and quickly searched for the wooden box. He breathed a sigh of relief when he still found it resting on the floor behind other boxes where he left it. He picked it up and examined its contents, his eyes falling once again on the birth certificate. It was still intact.

'I better take this somewhere else where I can deal with it when the time comes.'

Tim walked down to the basement and into one of the storage rooms. He pressed a brick near the base of the wall and a door slid open. It revealed a man-made tunnel lined with shelves. The tunnel disappeared into darkness.

'Haven't used this tunnel in quite a while. Since I have the house, I might rethink my living arrangements.'

Tim discovered the tunnel when he was eight, looking to hide from a babysitter who didn't really have his best interest at heart. Turned out the babysitter wanted to kidnap him. He later learned that the tunnel had been used during the underground railroad to hide escaped slaves. Even though they were far north of the Mason Dixon line, bounty hunters would search for slaves and if anyone was caught hiding escaped slaves despite the state being a free state, they were punished as well. Exploring the tunnel, Tim found the network of tunnels, one of which he learned later led to the bat cave.

'I don't want anyone else finding out about this, even the police. I want to go through this box myself. I want to learn why my father would keep a birth certificate for a baby with my name who died.'

After making certain the tunnel was secure once more, Tim went back to the main house and called the police.

"Yeah, I came back home to clear some more of my father's things and I found the front door open,' Tim stated in the phone. "No, there wasn't anyone in the house. No, I don't know if there was anything stolen unless I go through everything. I haven't been in the house since before my father was killed. You'll send someone over? Thanks."

Tim hung up the phone then thought better of it.

"Hey, Alfred, is Bruce there?"

"No, Master Timothy. He's at Wayne Foundation."

"Could you give him a message?"

"Certainly Master Timothy."

"Let him know I'm going to be late. I have to talk to the police."

"The police?"

"Yeah, it's a long story. Someone broke into my house. I'll tell you later. I have to go. Someone just pulled up."

Tim hung up the phone and headed out front. He was going to have to explain the two sets of footprints in the dust on the floor. Luckily, his footprints were smaller than the others. One question came to mind. Who broke in and what were they looking for?

Continues with Part 5


	5. Letters From a Bygone Day

Forgotten Birthdays

By

AJ

Letters From a Bygone Day

Part 5

It was another couple of days before Tim could examine the box. The police wanted a thorough job on what was missing and then Bruce showed up and he had to start all over again.

"So far, there's nothing missing," Tim stated.

"Whoever it was were they looking for something specific?" Bruce asked.

"That's just it, I can't tell. My fingerprints and my dad's are all over the place in that office, along with Dick's. He was helping me sort through things. What;s odd is there weren't any other prints."

"Was there any other place that was ransacked?"

"No, just my father's office." Tim replied.

"Maybe from your father's past?"

Tim's eyes narrowed. What would they want from his father's past? His father was an open book . . . Oh . . . the box. Could that have been it?

'I've got to go through that box and find out what someone would want with it. There's got to be something, something about that birth certificate.'

"I'll be right back," Tim said and he went down to the basement and opened the secret tunnel. The box was still resting where he placed it. He picked it up and carried it upstairs. Bruce was waiting.

"I think whomever ransacked the place was looking for this," Tim stated. "It was my father's."

"What's in it?" Bruce asked.

"Some old papers, but . . . There's something . . . "

"Tim, if your father was hiding something, are you sure you want to know what that is? It may do more harm than good."

"I've got to know, but not here," Tim stated. "Whomever came looking for this may come back and try again. They could have been looking for this specifically. It's as if they knew my father had whatever is in this box. I've got to find out what that is."

Bruce nodded, understanding Tim's resolve. If it had to do with his parents, he would want to know. "Let's go home."

Tim sat at his desk with the box resting in front of him. He had a knot in his stomach, but he had told Bruce that he wanted to know. Taking in a deep breath, Tim opened the box and started pulling out its contents. He removed the birth certificate first, opening it up and laying it flat. He then opened one of the drawers in his desk and pulled out an old album. He opened to the first page and pulled out the birth certificate that he had always been familiar with. Inside the album were old photos, including his most cherished, the photo of him and his parents with the Flying Graysons. Tim remembered that day well, sitting on Dick Gryason's lap as someone took their picture, several pictures as he recalled, but his father only gave him one of the photos. What happened to the rest?

Under the certificate was a white envelope. Tim took that out and opened it. Inside was a strip of film. Negatives? He held it up to the light and recognized one of the images in reverse. The others were similar and yet there were some slight differences. He would have to examine them later. Underneath the envelope were more envelopes, several in different colors. When he removed the top envelope, his nose caught a whiff of perfume.

Perfume? What was perfume doing . . . Tim picked up the first of many letters and gave it a sniff. This was where the smell had come from. A love letter?

'Had my father kept love letters from my mother?'

Eagerly Tim opened the letter anxious to read his Mother's words to his father, but what he read made him even more confused than ever before.

_My Dearest Jake,_

_I've missed you ever since that night. Though my life here is exciting, I miss being able to talk with someone who really understands the academic life and the joy of research. Though John is a wonderful man and father, he does not have your aptitude. There is no one here I can talk to about my former life . . ._

_I'm sorry for the interruption of writing. My son needed something. In many ways he reminds me of you, though in truth, he also reminds me of someone else . . . someone who . . . never mind. That was long ago. Perhaps we will see each other again. We will be in Prague soon. After our European tour we will be returning to the states. I will see what our route will be and let you know._

_Love,_

_Mary_

Mary? Who was Mary? Did my father have an affair? Tim could not believe what he was reading. Rereading the letter he did discern two pieces of information, that the woman was married and had a kid. He read the date on the letter and blew out a whistle.

'That's like almost 17 years ago. That's before I was even born. Maybe they were just friends. Dad would tell me stories before I was born, Mom and Dad never mentioned about a friend named Mary.'

Tim pulled out another letter. This one caused him to have to read it a second time to be certain he read it right.

_My Dearest Jake,_

_I hope this letter reaches you. I have something to tell you, but I do not know what to do. I am going to have to make a decision and I'm afraid that John will be very upset over it. First hand, we've suspended our traveling for the winter. We will not be traveling again until March. It is November and we are in Florida. But that's not my news. I have to see you. I told John that I have a family emergency and I must take care of some things there. It may take some time. I don't like lying to John, but I don't know what to do. He doesn't know though I think he suspects. Please, meet me at the Gotham train station tomorrow and I will explain."_

_Love,_

_Mary_

Tim was stunned. His father did have an affair . . . with a woman named Mary. She met my father to explain . . . what? Tim's eyes fell on the two birth certificates that lay on the table. His eyes kept returning to the one that had his name on it and read still birth. Then his eyes fell on his certificate. They were technically the same, except for the time of birth. Something in his gut twisted. And a suspicion entered his mind.

"If Janet isn't my Mother . . . Who is? And why would someone try steeling a box full of letters that were written 17 years ago?"

Continues With Part 6


	6. Putting the Pieces Together

Forgotten Birthdays

By

AJ

Part 6

Putting the Pieces Together

All thought about who wanted his father's box of letters went out the window as the invading thought that Janet Drake might not be his Mother took over.

'Wait Tim, that's just crazy,' he thought 'Get proof before you jump to any conclusion.'

Tim searched through the box one more time and found some startling evidence that he could not overlook. It was written in another letter.

_My Dearest Jake,_

_I received your latest letter today and I could not believe what I read. She must be devastated, but then I read that she does not know? How can you not know? I would know, somehow. What will you do? I know you cannot answer that question right now, but perhaps I may have a solution. Please meet with me tomorrow. My parents live in Newtown. It may be the only solution that will work._

_I have told John that I cannot come home just yet because my Mother needs help with my Father, which is somewhat the truth. My father broke his leg before I came home, and my mother does need my help. My own time is coming close._

_I thought about what you said in your last letter, but I am very serious about this. John is a very jealous man and if he knew he would be devastated. Dick would be thrilled and he's been asking about those things, but this really is the best thing. I'm just glad that . . ._

_I need to end this letter. My Mother just came in. I will see you in a few days._

_Love,_

_Mary_

The woman Mary was from Newtown? Tim turned the envelope over and looked at the return address. Why didn't he think of it before? He pulled out the rest of the letters and found that three of them had a Newtown address. The rest had varying addresses from different cities not only in Europe, but in the US as well. Tim sifted through the letters until he came upon the last one. It had his father's name on the front and nothing else. Opening this one he began to read. Noticed that the letter was different than the rest. It was written on Gotham General Hospital stationary.

_Jake,_

_I know your wife is in 411. I am in Room 415 . . ."_

Wait, why was she asking his father to go to a hospital room? The tone of this letter sounded urgent. And the fact that the envelope had only his father's name told him must mean that this letter had been hand delivered, but hand delivered where? Why? Tim went back to reading the letter.

" _. . . You need to come. It's time. If you want to do this then you have to come now. I have made the arrangements. All you have to do is pick him up. Everything is filled out and no one will know. As soon as it's done, I will be leaving Gotham. I will be returning home to my husband and son. If you want to know how I am doing, all you have to do is watch for the announcements. Perhaps we'll come to Gotham some day and we may meet again. You have given everyone a great gift and you saved us. You saved my son. You and I would never leave each other's spouses. We love them too much. What happened between us was because we both needed someone at the time. Now it is time that I give you one._

_Love_

_Mary_

Wait, Mary was in Gotham and went to Gotham Hospital the same time my Mother . . . How did she know my father . . . He looked at the date on the letter and realized it was the same day that he was born. Tim realized that the fourth floor on Gotham General was the maternity ward and that Mary was pregnant, pregnant with Jake Drake's child. Tim examined both birth certificates. The time was the only difference between the two. Taking out a sheet of paper, Tim wrote down what he knew about this odd case he had stumbled upon, the mystery of the other Timothy Drake. He started making a list.

1. The first Timothy was born at 4:25 in the after noon, but born dead.

2. The second Timothy (that's me) was born at 10:15 at night.

3. Both certificates listed Janet Drake as his mother.

4. Both certificates listed Jacob Drake as his father.

5. Neither certificate listed whether there was a twin. They were listed as a single birth.

'Gotham General Hospital should have a record of the patients for that day,' Tim thought. 'They would list who was in what room. That information might be in their patient records, but will I be able to find it. When I was born there wasn't a wide spread use of the computer. I do know that even the police are still adding records to their computer system, and their records go back more than 150 years since the formation of the police force.'

Taking his list, Tim headed down to the cave. No one was about since it was during the day. Alfred was busy cooking up a storm for some charity event that Bruce was hosting at the Manor. Dick had gone back to Bludhaven briefly to try to go through the rubble of what was left of his apartment after Blockbuster had tried to blow it up nine months ago. Dick also disappeared for six of those months, which worried Bruce to know end. Tim remembered how their relationship as Batman and Robin had become strained during that time as Bruce became overprotective of Tim.

Tim went to the bat computer and entered the key words he was looking for. He put in the date for the maternity ward and babies born. The search took several minutes and when the record finally came up, Tim found his mother Janet Drake on the list. He found no less than three patients by the name of Mary listed. Each gave birth on the same day. Then he found the name of the woman who was listed to being in Room 415. The name of the woman was Mary Roustin, He found a copy of a birth certificate for a boy born at the same time as he was born. No name was given for the boy and no father was listed. What was listed was that the boy was given up for adoption.

'Could . . . could this Mary Roustin actually be my birth mother?"

Tim looked at the other births that happened that day. The two other women with the name of Mary had given their babies names. He ruled them out for one reason; both babies were girls.

"She has to be the Mary mentioned in the letters. Then my father did have a brief affair with her. She didn't want it known. That's why no father was listed. I wonder if she's still alive.'

Tim stared at the name on the screen, Mary Roustin, of Newtown. Why didn't she have her baby in Newtown? Tim suspected the answer.

'She wanted to contact my father to make some kind of arrangement. She couldn't keep me. She had a son of her own and was married. Was he the jealous type? Would he have been furious to know that I wasn't his child?'

Tim's head was spinning with what he had found out. There was so much more he wanted to learn. But the emotional turmoil from the day was catching up with me. For now, he lay his head on his desk and fell asleep. His mind drifted wondering who Mary was and how his father met her. The voice of his father came to him, clear and strong and images formed in his mind of a time long gone . . . . .

"Get those packed we must be leaving within the hour." Jacob Drake barked. 'I am so glad I sent Janet home a couple days ago. I can't believe how this escalated.'

"Jake, stop, there's nothing we can do," a fellow college stated. "We should have left sooner. They closed the border."

"What?"

"What are we going to do?" a student came up hearing the conversation. "We can't just sit here. They're killing Americans. They might think we're spies."

"No, I heard they were looking for someone specifically," another stated.

"What do you know?"

"Not all of them are with this civil war that's coming." Father Markus, stated. Markus was a local priest who joined the dig because if his interest in religious and historical artifacts.

"There have long been rumors that a cult used to live in these parts, but they fled long ago, and yet others to this day believe in this cult."

"What do they want?" Jacob asked.

"Children, one child specifically who is chosen."

"Chosen for what?"

The priest did not go into detail, but the look on his face said much. Jacob knew that the man still believed in the cult and yet, he was doing his best to save a child's life.

"I heard two people talking in the village this morning that they are searching for this child, that the child should have been delivered into their hands. The child would be five years old."

"We have no children here," Jacob replied. "Do they mean someone from the circus?"

"They did seem very interested in which way the circus had gone. The storeowner didn't tell them anything at first. Then he told them that the circus had left days ago and had gone North.

"What did these two people say exactly?"

Markus looked pensive at first, the said, "They were following their trail and the man responsible would have to answer to the court for not delivering the child into their hands."

"The court? A court of law?"

"No", Markus stated. "They were not with any court of law that I could see."

"Who were those two?" Jacob asked.

"I do not know, but their voices and their words told me they were not from this country. Their accents sounded more American. If they are after one of the children in the circus, you must get them out of here. It will not be long until they discover that the storeowner had lied to them."

"I know a way out of this," Jacob Drake stated. He looked over down the road to where the circus stopped for the night. While the circus was here, his archeological team got some free entertainment. Jacob stopped what he was doing and headed across the field toward the brightly colored tents.

"Where are you going?"

"To talk with the owner. He might not know either."

"But how are we going to get out of here?"

Continues with Part 7


	7. Lives In Peril

Forgotten Birthdays

By

AJ

Part 7

The caravan was stopped for the night. The more rugged and remote parts of Slovenia were harder to traverse. And taking the rail system to remote areas didn't always get you where you wanted to go. So, the caravan took to the old fashion way, traversing old trails and roads that did not follow the main routes.

Haley was looking for talent as well as trying to reach the smaller villages where people might not have seen a circus in their lives. That's how he found the gypsy fortuneteller who joined them seven years ago. It was also his directive, one that he had since the beginning. The book told him of past family lines that could be a means to exploit, but so far, there hadn't been anyone. There was one name added, one name that caused Haley to cringe. He didn't want to have to give up the boy. His parents knew nothing of that past and he wanted to keep it that way, though he could see that the boy had potential. He could be the greatest, but the boy had a family and that made things far difficult than before. He knew they were coming for the boy. If only there was some way he could keep them from finding them. In truth, he took this route to try to elude them, but they were no more than two days behind. Eventually, they would find them, if they were to stay in one place for more than just a day. If only they had the means to outrun them.

'They will take the boy; maybe even kill his parents to achieve it. I cannot let that happen. If the boy were orphaned it would be easier, but I can't do it. It just isn't right.'

The circus was supposed to be in Europe for two more seasons, but the atmosphere had become less hospitable. Right now, they were trying to reach the farthest areas of Slovenia, but the going was rougher than expected. In some cases, they would stay for only a day or two, while in others they ended up staying for a week. As always the money varied. In some cases they were able to not only pay for enough to feed all of their animals, but all of the circus people as well, with some left over for expenses and the lean times. In other cases they had to resort to foraging and hunting to be able to get what everyone needed.

A day or two ago, it was one of the latter. The caravan was running low on food and they were to stop so performers who were savvy with a weapon could go out and hunt to feed what amounted to be a small army. While waiting for the hunters to return, the children went out to play and were soon running back. That's how they discovered the archeological camp. They were digging into the past, finding remnants of what used to be a medieval village that had been wiped out from a plague centuries before. The dig was quite large, almost 100 people made up of locals and Americans. They had been there for about three months. The caravan agreed to stay for two nights at the begging of the children, especially the youngest who seemed to be the elected leader of the group.

"Oh please, Poppy, can't we stay?"

"Now Dickie boy, we need to be getting to the next village to return home."

"I bet they could use some entertainment."

"It would mean having to set up the big top and that could take hours and then we would have to take it all down. We're only going to be here for a day or two."

"We don't have to use the big top," Dick said. 'I could use the uneven bars and the others could . . ."

The other older children put in their pleas along with Dick's.

Pop Haley thought about what the children were saying. Some of the adults hadn't returned yet and what would it hurt. The children needed to entertain just as much as they needed entertaining. "Very well, and since it was your idea, you tell the others. Just make certain any equipment you take out is put back."

"YIPPPEEE!" Dick dashed off with his fellow conspirators.

The next day found the caravan once again preparing to move out when Haley spotted the young man whom he met yesterday when they introduced themselves after their impromptu performance.

"Where's your good lady?" Haley asked.

"She went home yesterday," Jacob Drake stated. "She missed her family. And she only came to see how I was doing. I have some news."

"News?"

"You said you were leaving for your next village?"

"Yes, it's near the coast."

"You may not make it," Jacob stated. "They're looking for Americans, accusing them of spying."

Those closest to Haley turned when they heard the young man.

"What? Are you certain?"

Jacob recognized the aerialist from the other day. The woman's five-year-old son was standing next to her.

"I'm afraid so"

"Are you certain of this?" Haley asked.

"How are we going to get out of the country?" the woman asked. "I don't want anything to happen to my son."

"The only way we are going to get out of here is through the mountains," Haley stated.

"We haven't traversed these mountains before. We can't make it, not with all this equipment." A painted faced clown came up beside Haley.

"There may be a way," Jake stated. "I know of some old logging roads that are no longer used."

"How do you know of them?" Haley asked.

"We've been here for three months. This area has been stripped of its trees. That's when they discovered the remains of the medieval village. When we first arrived at the dig site we took a truck along the old roads and discovered they went right through the mountains. There are some places that are tight, but I'm sure you could make it."

"Can you lead us?"

"I wasn't thinking of leaving yet, but with the situation the way it is, I can do my best," Jacob stated. "We'll have to get packed up and leave no later than tonight."

"We'll be ready."

"I'll pack everything in the vehicles," Jacob's associate stated.

"No, wait . . ." Jacob walked over to Haley. "Can we speak in private?"

"Certainly," Haley led the man to his circus wagon and they entered together. Haley offered the man a seat.

"I'm really concerned for my archeology team. The locals can go back to their homes, but my associates and students . . . if they are killing Americans . . ."

"How many are on your team?" Haley questioned. "And what are you asking?"

"I'm asking if we can join you for the duration. We might be able to lead you to the logging roads, but if they discover our tracks, the rebels might come after us. If they see the circus wagons and the animals, they might leave us alone."

"What about all of your gear?"

"Our gear is small in comparison. And some of it we can leave behind with the locals. A few we can trust and they can ship it out to the university in Gotham City, if it can be shipped. I'm just glad my wife left before all this happened."

"You are married," Haley asked.

"Yeah, we've been married for five years."

"Does she travel with you often?"

"Most times. Though we've been trying to have a baby and well, I've been thinking about changing my focus for a while now. My wife wants us to settle down. A university professor doesn't make a whole lot of money. My father would prefer I take over the business."

Haley looked over the man and saw the worry deep in his face. 'This man was hiding something, but he would prefer not to reveal it and it's not my place to pry. There are many who come to the circus, some not staying long, each trying to leave behind a life that once was or trying to hide who they are. This man is a good man.' Haley let his eyes drop for a moment then stated. "I think we can accommodate your team, but you must do as I say if you are to stay safe. It is true that circus people are usually overlooked. It is not the first time my circus has helped someone in need. Does any among you who speak other languages?"

"I speak five," Jacob answered. "There are a few on my team who do speak other languages."

"Tell your team that you must not speak English from here on out if we are stopped. I shall talk with Mary Grayson."

"Mary Grayson?"

"She is the mother of the boy whom you saw. She speaks French. Her husband knows no other language, but English. She will have to speak for him."

"Isn't Grayson an American name?" Jacob asked.

"Do not worry about it," Haley waved his hand. "To get us all through, we must make certain that we get across the border without incident. Speaking another language is going to help with that disguise. If there is a problem, we will be prepared just in case."

"Where should we put our things?"

"There are 20 of you, correct?" Haley asked

"Yes."

"We will simply sprinkle you among the performers. You look close enough to be a Grayson. We'll put you in with them until we get over the mountains. Your supplies can go into the supply wagon."

"Will you be traveling back?" Jacob asked.

"Oh no. We'll be going home as soon as we can reach a large enough city with a rail station," Haley stated. "Things have become a bit inhospitable even for us. We've saved enough money to be able to travel home by train and then by boat."

"How long will it take for you to get there?"

"We normally would have gone back to the more traversed roads and go to the nearest train station that will take us to the coast where we can board a boat home. With us having to travel through the mountains, it might take longer to reach a station that can board all of our items. You will be traveling with us the whole way. It may be safer."

"Can you really accommodate us? We'll be willing to pay our way," Jacob Drake stated.

"Money is tight, but we should be able to get all of you home safely."

Jacob breathed a sigh of relief. He decided that once they reached a railroad station, he would call his father and insist that Haley not only be reimbursed for his generous offer, he would see that the second leg of their passage home would be done in style. He just wished he could have been fully honest with Haley, but he didn't want to put them on edge. Maybe he would inform the later, once they were moving. It was the least he could do.

Continues with Part 8


	8. Conversation and Unexpected Revelation

Forgotten Birthdays

By

AJ

Part 8

The trip through the mountains took longer than anyone expected. Without a motorized vehicle, they had to travel no faster than the animals that pulled their wagons. It turned out that was the smarter move for all of them. Jacob Drake tried to make himself useful by helping to drive the team that pulled the Grayson's wagon. From time to time, he would have company, either John Grayson's young son or the man's wife.

"I heard you say to Pop Haley that you speak five languages?" Dick Grayson asked. "My Mom speaks French. She will sometimes talk to Soraya, the fortuneteller. She speaks French and Romani. My mommy is teaching her English."

"I have never heard of Romani," Jake responded to the boy.

"It's a very old language, at least that's what she told me. I'm learning how to speak Romani, too."

"Speaking another language cane be very useful," Jacob Drake stated. "And you can call me Jake."

"Do you have any children, Mr. Jake?" Dick asked.

"Just Jake, and no, not right now. Though we hope to have one very soon."

The woman, Mary Grayson, stuck her head out of the window that was behind the driver's seat of the circus wagon.

"Dick you better climb back inside. It's almost time for bed."

"Awww, Jake was telling me that he doesn't have children," Dick stated. "I find that pretty sad."

"Dick, let's not bother the man. It's time for bed."

"Okay, Mommy," Dick replied and he climbed into the wagon from the small window.

"The boy didn't mean any harm," Jake stated.

"I know. Dick is a very curious child. He sometimes is too smart for his own good."

"I wouldn't begrudge him that," Jake stated to Mary. "He's one perceptive boy and pretty smart."

"I know, but we just can't afford to give him the kind of education I once had, though he does love it here. He's like his father in that respect."

"Whoa!" The wagon train suddenly stopped.

Mary was thrown back and John poked his head out the small window.

"What's going on? Dick almost fell out of bed. We can't have any of us getting hurt."

"It's the lead wagons," Jake stated. "They suddenly stopped. Someone's coming."

A woman in long robes with bells that jingled when she walked was stopping at each wagon. When she reached the Grayson's wagon, she paused only for a moment when she saw that Jake Drake, the stranger was driving. She gave him a frown at first then turned to see that Mary was looking out the window.

"Miri," Soyara stated, in heavy accented English than turned to using French. They are checking the wagons.

Who is checking the wagons? Jake asked switching to French.

Soyara stared at him in surprise but continued. Soldiers.

There shouldn't be any soldiers on this road. Jake stated. Who is driving the lead wagon?

Mr. Haley.

I should have stayed with him until we were through the mountains. He may have taken a wrong turn. The logging road meets up with a different road not far from where we entered. That road leads back to the main highway. The road we're looking for will take us over the boarder into Italy. I can't believe that Slovinia is back at war.

How many in your party? A soldier approached speaking loud enough for others to hear in a language that obviously wasn't French.

It stopped the conversation. Jake recognized the language. He studied the Slavic and Chec languages recently to be able to speak to the locals on the dig. When the soldier approached them, he eyed the fortuneteller.

Gypsy trash! Away!

What is the problem, officer . . . ? Jake quickly asked as he held out a hand for Soyara to climb onto the wagon.

How many in your party?

Five. Jake answered. He thought it best to include Soyara so there wasn't any more trouble for the fortuneteller.

Where are the others?

In the back, my sister, her husband, and son.

And who is this woman to you?

Our Aunt.

Soyara tried not to look surprised, but kept her composure as much as possible.

You're all Gypsy scum as far as I'm concerned. Move along.

Jake snapped the reins and the horse moved forward. Soon the rest of the wagon train was heading back into the mountains.

"That was a close call," Jake stated.

I must thank you, Soyara stated.

Don't mention it.

Soyara looked at Jake for a moment then took his hand. Jake gave her a puzzled look.

Two born out of love, one lives and is part of another, brothers in more ways than one.

As the wagon slowed for just a moment, Soyara jumped down then stared up at Jake one more time.

I do not approve what you will do, but what I saw means you will receive a precious gift that out weighs the sin.

Jake did not understand what the woman was talking about. He watched her walk to the back of the wagon then disappear inside. He quickly reined in the horse before he ran into the wagon ahead.

'Did that woman just read my fortune?' The first words didn't make any sense. It sounded like he was going to be the father of twins. 'But Janet and I just got started. What did she mean though with that second statement? What am I supposed to do that's a sin but I'll receive a gift?'

Jacob shook off the woman's words and concentrated on watching the road. He wasn't aware that someone else was watching him, watching him with curiosity and longing.

Continues With Part 9


	9. In the Arms of Another

_**A/N: This part is Rated between T and M. Read at your own risk.**_

Forgotten Birthdays

By

AJ

Part 9

The caravan took three days to clear the mountains. As they drew closer to the border, they had to be more cautious. Passports were kept on their persons at all times, just in case. Mary Grayson started riding with Jake more often. The need for someone to speak the Italian language was coming close. Mary knew a little, but Jake knew more than she did. And she wanted to take the opportunity to learn more. There was another reason as well, but Mary was afraid to voice it to herself.

"Now, what would you ask if you were on the phone?" Jake prompted.

"Pronto. Casa Drake?" Mary asked.

"Si, qui casa Drake. Con chi parlo?"

"Sono, Mary Grayson, un'amica di John?"

"Buon giorno, signorina. Io sono lo zio di John. Come sta?"

"Wait, wait. What did you just say?" Mary asked.

"I said, 'Good morning, young lady. I'm John's uncle. How are you?" Jake stated. "Now I'm going to ask you the same question and I want you to answer. 'Pronto. Casa Grayson?"

"Um Si, qui casa Grayson," Mary answered. "Con chi parlo?"

"Sono Jake Drake. Un'amica di Mary?"

"Un . . . how do you say, 'speaking' in Italian?"

"Chi parla," Jake answered.

"Chi parla . . ."

"Very good."

"Mary, do you know where my other shirt is?" John called from inside the wagon.

"It should be packed in the your drawer, dear."

"Mom, when are we going to stop for lunch?"

"I don't know Dick," Mary answered. "We haven't received the signal yet."

"I still can't find my shirt," John complained.

Mary looked at Jake for a moment then remembered. "Oh, I'm sorry John. I gave it to Jake to wear."

"Now, why would you do that? That's the only other shirt I have."

"His shirt was torn. I didn't think you'd mind. I have to repair his shirt . . ."

"You're spending way too much time with that . . . archeologist."

"John, I said I was sorry. I'll get you another shirt to wear once we stop for lunch."

"I think we'll stop the lesson for today," Jake stated, aware of the tension between John and Mary.

"I better go find a shirt for John," Mary sighed. "I know he has more than two, but . . ."

"I . . . understand," Jake gave out a sigh. She was so much like his wife, Janet, even her eyes. Thinking of his wife made him realize they hadn't talked since she left. They hadn't had the opportunity. He wasn't going to be able to talk to her for several more days. With the mountains, it was impossible to get a signal on his phone. 'God I miss her.'

Once the signal was given, everyone stopped and prepared the mid day meal. Lunch had been a tension filled affair with Mary's son trying to get answers to questions from Jake. Mary could see the look of anger in John's face. They didn't have another opportunity to speak until they were over the border and on their way to Gorizia, Italy. Gorizia had the closest train station. Once the wagons were well past the border, everyone could rest a little easier. They soon found a place to camp for the night. Mary climbed out of the wagon, tears silently streaming down her face. 'Why can't he understand? There's no reason to be jealous. He's just teaching me some Italian.' The argument they had was done in whispers so it would not carry through the rest of the camp. Their son was sleeping with Elinor the elephant tonight. He missed the pachyderm and wanted to be sure she was safe, so Mary gave permission for her son to go and sleep with the large animal for the night. And now with the argument with John, Mary had to get some air. She grabbed a shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders as she moved through the camp. She heard voices and as she came closer she saw Haley and Jake Drake talking around a campfire. She watched Jake as he spoke with Pop Haley.

"How long to you think it will be until we reach the coast? I haven't travelled in Italy for a few years."

"We're going to have to travel to Naples to get a boat to America."

"We should reach Gorizia tomorrow," Jake stated. "It's not far from the border. They do have a train station there. That's where my team and I were dropped off and we made our way to Slovenia from there, but we were taking more direct routes."

"The train will take about three days to Naples. Since you speak Italian can you arrange for the tickets? We can pay for them, but we'll need to exchange what money we have."

"I'll make the arrangements," Jake stated. "And Naples is where the boat will be waiting?"

"We don't actually have our passage worked out," Pop Haley stated. "We were supposed to travel for two more years in Europe before going home, but because of the conflict, as you can see we've had to cut our time short. That's okay. We'll do some traveling back home. I'm sure everyone will be glad to see us. Our main attraction after all is the Flying Graysons and since they added their son into the act, they will be quite a show."

"When I get back to Gotham, I'll have to take my wife," Jake stated. "Well, it's getting late. I better check in with my team. I haven't been able to talk to any of them since we left."

Mary watched as Jake moved over to another campfire that made up the rest of Jake Drake's archeological team. Talking with Jacob Drake reminded Mary of her academic life in trying to become a teacher. Newtown wasn't known for its education centers. She had gone to Gotham University, but with the way the atmosphere in both places, it seemed everyone was bound to get involved with either Tony Zucco's gang life or Gotham's mob bosses as well. If only life in both places had been better. Escaping that life she thought had been the only option and when Haley Circus came to town more than nine years ago, Mary Roustin had taken the chance at a life away from the crime and corruption. Her parents weren't too happy that she had taken life up with the circus, but marrying John had been the best thing that happened to her in a long time. And when he taught her the trapeze, she had been a natural. Now, hearing Jacob Drake talk to Haley, about the team just brought all that back.

'Perhaps while he's here, I can ask him some questions. I need to teach my son something. He's so curious and there aren't enough subjects to occupy his time. Oh Mary, don't make excuses. You want to talk to him yourself. You want to learn more Italian. He reminded you of someone you used to know.'

Mary walked toward the camp where Jake was standing talking with his team. She stopped just beyond the light.

"How has everything been?" Jake asked.

"I can't believe how everyone has been so kind," a student by the name of David Cross stated. "I remember my Mom taking me to the circus, but I never expected to be traveling with one."

"How is the equipment?"

"Fine, we put everything in the supply wagon."

"What about the small artifacts?"

"They're safe as well."

"I hate to have taken them with us, but I didn't want to see them get lost in the skirmish," Jake stated. "Those artifacts are valuable. We'll make sure they're returned when everything calms down. Well, tomorrow is another day of travel. We should be arriving at the train station. Better get some sleep. I'll go check on the artifacts. I want to make certain nothing's broken."

Mary watched as Jake headed to the supply wagon. She followed him and watched as he climbed inside and pulled down a flashlight by the door. He turned it on and went toward the back of the wagon and kneeled down searching for something she could not see. Mary climbed in behind him, shutting the door and locking it behind her.

Jake suddenly stood up, the flashlight forgotten along with the artifacts. Mary didn't say a thing, but let her shawl slip from her shoulders. Once they were on the train, there wasn't going to be any time, and even if they could, there wouldn't be as much an opportunity as right now. As Mary moved forward, she slowly removed the dress she was wearing then suddenly flung herself into Jake Drake's arms. She had missed the feel of a man holding her. There was no opportunity for her and John to be intimate, and Jake had stirred something in her that she was craving. Breathless from the sudden onslaught, Jake's head was spinning from the perfume that assaulted his senses. Missing his own wife, he should have stopped what was happening, but with the feel of the woman in his arms, Jake could not help himself. No word was spoken as she assisted in removing his shirt as well as the rest of his clothing. She led him to an area where there were rolls of canvas and laying back, Mary began exploring Jake's body. With her ministrations, he could not help but respond. Straddling him, Mary did all the work. He was just as strong as the young man she met before she married John. That young man left out of her life, leaving her with a gift she would cherish for the rest of her life. And with this man, she hoped it would be the same, and yet, a small voice inside her warned her that it could not be so. Still, while the man was here, she would enjoy him despite her husband's jealousy. It was no different than him going to visit the woman who trained the horses. She had a daughter a little older than her son, her hair the color of flame.

Mary pushed the thoughts from her head as her ecstasy grew. She wrapped her arms around Jake and let her body respond in silence, aware that he also did the same. It was as if they both knew that what they were doing was forbidden and needed to be done in total silence and secrecy. The camp did not need to hear their lovemaking. Once done and both fell back exhausted, Mary picked up her dress and shawl and, kissing Jake on the lips one more time, she left the supply wagon into the darkness, returning to her wagon and her family.

Continues with Part 10


	10. Treasures and Truth

Forgotten Birthdays

By

AJ

Part 10

Treasure and Truth

The rest of the trip was a blur for everyone, except for maybe the children. Jake Drake did call his father and when the circus did arrive at Naples, the whole circus learned that the rest of their trip home was paid for in full. The rest of the money that the circus had collected for the trip was kept for their trip home to Florida. And Jake Drake went back to Gotham and to his pregnant wife . . .

. . . Tim woke to the sound of the alarm on his desk going off. He found himself holding a letter he had not opened before. In fact, the letter was still sealed. When he rubbed his hands along the letter it felt like something was inside. Tim opened the letter and pulled out a note and inside was a small key. The key had a number. When he read the letter, things became clearer.

_Dear Jake,_

_I know I told you in my last letter that if you wanted to check up on me, to follow the notices about Haley's Circus, but there is another reason why I am writing. I know it's been almost three years. John and I were going through our equipment and we found a small package. We thought at first that it might be some extra tape for our traps until we found that box in another place. We didn't know what it could be until John opened it. Inside were some pottery fragments, some figurines, and some old coins. Then I remembered about you being an archeologist and remembered the time you and your team traveled with us. I know it's been nearly four years, but I thought it best that I send you this. I don't remember where you said you worked. So, I'll be sending this to a post office box under my parents' name. The package will be waiting for you whenever you are able to get to Newtown. Oh, if you wish to come to the Circus, we will be in Newtown . . ._

Tim read the date. 'That's the day my parents took me to the circus. Why didn't my father open . . . ' Tim knew the answer. The letter had been written and sent the day before the Graysons died and left a young son behind. Why didn't my father read this letter? Maybe he couldn't because of what happened. Tim read the postmark of the envelope. The letter must have arrived two days later. Tim vaguely remembered attending a funeral, but he did remember the nightmares, nightmares he had practically every night for almost a year, until the appearance of Robin on TV. His Mother couldn't quite understand why he would glue himself to the set every time Robin appeared on camera. It was as if he was drawn to the boy wonder. And watching Batman's protégé, and seeing him perform those flips, he suddenly knew, but he dare not voice it.

Then Tim read the postscript and his heart quickened.

_PS. Thank you for taking our son. I know I told you to fill out the birth certificate with your wife's name and your name. After learning about the birth of your son being still born, I had to do something. Giving him to you was the least I could do after I learned it was you who paid for everyone's passage and helping us through the mountains. You do not know how much I wanted to hold him when we saw you that day, how much I wanted to tell you about Dick as well. Even, though John will never know, perhaps some day, our sons will meet as brothers. _

Brothers? Wait a moment . . . Then my mother . . . Tim had to read the postscript a second time. He was relieved that his father was still Jake Drake, but his mother . . .

'Mary Grayson was my . . . my birth mother? Roustin must have been her maiden name. Wait a minute . . .'

Tim picked up the key one more time and read the first part of the letter again. Taking the key and the letter he dashed out the door and searched for his adopted father.

"Bruce," Tim called out, searching, but Bruce wasn't anywhere within the Manor. 'Maybe he's down in the cave.'

Tim opened the grandfather clock in the hall and walked down the steps into the cave. He found Bruce sitting at the bat computer typing in a report.

"You went on patrol?" Tim's eyes narrowed. "Without me?"

"You were exhausted. I found you asleep in your room at your desk. I didn't want to wake you."

"How long was I out?"

"All night," Bruce stated.

Tim remembered the blanket that had been placed over his shoulders. Bruce could have moved him to his bed, he thought, but he didn't say anything.

Seeing, Tim's look, Bruce added, "Dick would do the same thing. And if I moved him, sometimes he would protest, so I let you sleep."

"I know what the thief was after," Tim announced.

Bruce turned his chair so he was facing Tim. "Tell me."

Tim held up the small key.

"It's a post office box key," Tim explained. He still held the letter in his other hand. "And . . . There's more." He handed the letter over to Bruce. He watched as Bruce's eyes grew wide. "And I bet on the negatives, she's looking at me."

"Negatives?"

"There were a set of negatives and one of them shows the image of my parents and I with the Flying Graysons and I'm sitting on Dick's lap. I never knew I was sitting on my brother's lap the whole time."

"What about the other things in that box?"

"Well, I did learn that my Mom . . . Janet . . . gave birth to a baby boy who was still born . . . so . . . I did have a brother . . . a slightly older brother who died before I even knew about him. He had my name and my birth date . . ."

"So, Mary Grayson . . ."

"She arranged with my father so he could raise me. Jacob Drake is . . . was my father."

"And Mary Grayson . . ."

"What about Mary Grayson?" Dick Grayson moved down the steps to the cave overhearing part of the conversation.

"Um," Suddenly, Tim was nervous. No one wanted to learn that the parents they've known in their lifetime might have had an affair with someone. It was often a crushing blow to the image that children had, putting their parents up on a pedestal where they could do no wrong. In this instance, there was both good and bad news. Tim just hoped that the good news outweighed the bad. "Dick, come with me."

Tim led Dick up to his room. "I found this among my father's things when I was cleaning out the closet in his office." Tim showed Dick the box and the birth certificates.

"What does it mean?"

"It means that I had a brother who was born first and his name was Tim."

"But . . . your name is Tim," Dick said confused.

"I know, and I was confused at first as well, until I started to read the letters."

Then Tim showed him the first couple of letters and told him about the mystery he discovered.

"Um . . . If this is what I think it is?" Dick questioned. 'This has to be a coincidence . . . but what if it's not. Wait a minute this is my Mom's handwriting. I hadn't seen her handwriting since before . . .'

"I also found these," Tim held up the negatives.

Dick took the negatives and held them up to the light. "One of them is the picture you showed me." Dick's eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips. 'My Mom, she's looking over toward Mr. Drake and now she's looking down at . . .' Dick turned his head toward Tim. 'Why would my Mom look at Tim?' He handed Tim the negatives. "Did you look at these?"

"I had, but I was going to have them developed to take a closer look."

"Well, you should pay attention to these two frames, but why my Mom would be staring at . . ."

"My Dad and me?" Tim finished "I did see that, but at the time I didn't know why, now I do."

"Why?" Dick insisted, suspecting, but not daring to ask.

"Because she's my Mom, too," Tim stated then handed Dick the last letter.

Dick's eyes became wide when he read the final letter, the postscript revealing a secret that his mother held even in death.

"I never would have known if I hadn't found this box."

"Why didn't my Mom . . ."

"She made it clear in her letters," Tim stated. "I do have one question for you. Do you remember ever meeting my father?"

Dick's lips pursed one more time and his brow furrowed as he tried to remember. "Wait a minute, I do remember. He traveled with us when we left Slovenia, on the train through Italy and on the boat, but I didn't see much of him during the train ride or on the boat."

"How did your father react to him?"

Dick put his head down, remembering one particular evening. He was trying not to listen, but he could hear his parents whispering angrily. "I remember my Dad was pretty upset that my Mom was with Jake. He sounded angry. He was teaching her Italian. I remember they had a fight. I asked my Mom if I could sleep with Elinor . . . the elephant. After that, I just remember crying myself to sleep because my parents were angry at each other. They never fought like that before. Jake and my Mom didn't talk much after that. But neither did my Mom and Dad. It wasn't until we were on the boat back to America that my Mom and Dad seemed to reconnect, but . . . I knew there was some kind of secret that my Mom was hiding, but she never said anything. I didn't understand what was going on back then. And now, reading this . . . "

"I'm sorry that you had to learn . . ." Tim started to say.

"Don't be. Knowing the truth, that my Mom had an affair with your father makes a lot of sense. I wouldn't have understood if I learned about it then. I probably would have gotten mad at Jake thinking he was trying to take my Mom from my Dad and I. Reading these letters I can see that wasn't the case. In fact, I'm glad of one thing," Dick placed his hands on Tim's shoulders. "I've always wanted a brother. And now it looks like I really have one."

Tim smiled at Dick, seeing that he always managed to see the sunnier side of things.

"Oh, there's more to this mystery than discovering about my birth Mother and the fact that I have a half-brother . . . and a still born one too," Tim stated, though the final statement was very sobering for both of them. "This started out when someone broke into my old house and ransacked my father's old office."

"What were they looking for?" Dick asked curious.

"This," Tim held up the small key he had hidden in his pocket.

"Why?"

"Reread the first part of the letter and you'll know."

Dick did as Tim instructed and his eyes became wide. "Artifacts?"

"Yeah. Don't you remember, my Dad was an . . ."

" . . . Archeologist," Dick completed the sentence. "You mean he brought some of the artifacts from the dig that the circus stopped at in Slovenia?"

"Apparently," Tim answered. "I . . . I wasn't there."

"And this key is to a post office box in Newtown?"

"Yep."

"Well what are we waiting for," Dick said. "Let's go find out."

Tim gave a wide grin that matched Dick's perfectly.

"Let's go get Bruce. He's going to what to see this, too," Tim stated.

The two of them ran from Tim's room and back down the hall. They couldn't wait to see if what Tim discovered was true. They were going to be the first to recover the lost treasure from the lost medieval village near the small village of Idrja in Slovenia.

Continues with Part 11


	11. Complications and Confrontations

_**A/N: It may take a few extra days to get the next couple of chapters written. So hang in there everyone. Everything will be revealed in time.**_

_**NRRNRRNRR**_

Forgotten Birthdays

By

AJ

Part 11

The drive to the Newtown post office was uneventful and for the most part was actually pleasant for the trio. It gave all of them a chance to reminisce. Dick remembered the times when he and Bruce would drive around the countryside, taking breaks from crime fighting, but still ending up fighting crime in some remote town that hardly ever saw crime. Tim was enthralled with some of the stories that Dick was sharing. Tim thought about how his parents would sometimes take him on their travels. Despite his father having to take over Drake Industries, Jake and Janet Drake were still archeologists at heart and would take every opportunity to drop by a dig to see what was going on. Bruce thought about the times when he and his parents would go up to their summer home, but most of the time, his thoughts were similar to Dick's. All three though would always have the joint memory that brought them to Newtown the last time, all three witnesses to the tragic and senseless murder of John and Mary Grayson. Little did Tim know that day he was also witnessing the death of his birth Mother.

When they finally arrived at the Newtown post office, Tim went to the box number that was carved on the key. It was an old fashion box, intricately designed with metal scrollwork with a small window. The box was also a larger one, one that could hold packages. One question came to Tim while he was retrieving the package.

'Weren't post office boxes rented and didn't they need to be paid for? So, who was continuing to rent this one after so many years?'

Then Tim remembered that Mary Grayson had mentioned she had gone to see her parents. Were her parents still alive? Were they the ones who maintained the post office box? If that were so, they could have claimed Dick when he had been orphaned. And if they were alive, why didn't they?

'And why didn't they claim me as well since they obviously knew she was pregnant?' Tim thought.

Tim looked inside and sure enough there was a package. It was covered in several years of dust. He took out the small key and opened up the box and pulled out the package, dust flying everywhere. Tim carefully brushed off the layers with a handkerchief causing him to momentarily sneeze. He noticed the name on the package written in his mother's handwriting. The name had faded over the years and all he could make out was the post office box. He would wait to open it when he was in the car or back at Wayne Manor. Right now, he wanted to verify who still owned the post office box and continued to pay on it. He went to the main area and waited for someone to help him.

"Next in line," a postal worker called.

Tim stepped up to the window. "I have a question. Who owns box number 324?"

"I'm sorry that's privileged information."

"Um, the reason I'm asking is because . . . I though they may be my grandparents. I just found out that . . . well, I had a different birth mother and well, her parents live in Newtown . . ."

"What is the last name?"

"Roustin?" Tim stated.

"All I can tell you is yes, that the Roustins do live in Newtown."

"Do . . . you mean they're still alive."

"Of course they are. They come and pick up packages that the mail carrier can't deliver. I've seen Mrs. Roustin but not Mr. Roustin. If you're the Roustin's grandson why haven't they talked about you?"

'Good question,' Tim thought. "I . . . I never knew I had grandparents."

The postal worker looked around then slipped Tim a piece of paper. "I'm not supposed to do this. My supervisor isn't here today. Good luck."

Tim took the folded sheet of paper then exited out of the post office and headed to the car. Bruce and Dick were waiting. As Tim approached the car, Dick opened the window.

"Looks like you struck gold," Dick stated. 'You've got a grin on your face like you know something we don't."

Tim climbed in the car with the package and then handed Dick the note.

"What's this?"

"An address,' Tim stated.

"I know it's an address, but whose address is it?"

Tim gave Dick a knowing smile then stated, "Mary Grayson's parents."

"What?" Both Bruce and Dick said at the same time.

"I don't understand," Bruce stated. "When Dick became my ward, the court said Dick didn't have any other living relatives."

"I . . ." Dick was speechless. "You mean all this time . . . my Mom's family . . . could have . . .why didn't they? They had to have known . . ."

"Why don't we go find out," Tim stated.

"What about the package?" Dick asked.

"We'll take care of that later."

Tim put the package on the floor of the car and covered it with a small blanket throw that was folded up behind the back seat. He didn't want to take any chances that the package might be spotted. Someone went to a lot of trouble to find it, and Tim was going to make certain that it was secure despite the simple method of hiding it.

Bruce drove while Tim and Dick searched for the address. Though GPS would have directed them to the address, Bruce decided not to use his. Each of them were locked into their own thoughts, Bruce asking why the Roustins never came forward to claim his eldest, Dick wondering pretty much the same thing, and Tim wondering what his grandparents were like and why they hadn't also came forward. When they arrived at the address, it was to face a house not that much larger than Wayne Manor. Apparently, Mary Roustin had come from a wealthy family, but had turned her back on all of that to marry a man from the circus. It wouldn't be too hard to figure out what might have happened, and yet it was still inconceivable that they would turn their back on their own child . . . and grandchildren. But why would they continue to pick up mail at a post office let alone continue to pay for a post office box? In this instance, all three were about to find out.

Bruce parked in front of the large manor. All three got out of the car and knocked on the door. Bruce expected to see a butler, but instead a woman with gray, nearly white hair opened the door instead.

"May I help you?"

Tim noticed two things, the look on Bruce and Dick's faces as they stared at the woman standing in the doorway and the look on the woman's face as she stared at Dick Grayson. Tim was wondering what was going on in the minds of his brother and adopted father.

Dick froze when he saw the face along with Bruce. They both had seen this woman before. She had not been present in recent years, not since Dick's Aunt Harriet died before he left for Hudson University. He should have made the connection, but he never suspected. She had been part of Aunt Harriet's bridge club. Aunt Harriet met her soon after she joined the household when Dick was nine, when they thought Alfred had been killed from a boulder that he deflected with his body and motorcycle to prevent it from falling on him and Batman. The woman always had a sad look on her face. Why hadn't he made the connection? The woman had some of his Mother's features, her piercing blue eyes for one, the same eyes that Dick had inherited from his Mother.

Bruce was staring at the woman. He had seen her before. She would frequently come to Wayne Manor to have tea with Dick's Aunt Harriet. Not only that, he believed she was part of Aunt Harriet's bridge club. When she was present, Bruce did notice how her eyes would follow Dick every time he came into the room. He sometimes questioned her intent on being there, but she never seemed to do any harm. After a time, he dismissed it, assuming that Dick might have reminded her of someone she used to know. Now Bruce wished he should have looked into her background more closely.

"Excuse me," Tim shook all of them out of their sudden trance. "I'm Timothy Drake Wayne and this is my brother, Dick Grayson-Wayne and this is our father Bruce Wayne. We . . . um . . . Can we talk? It's kind of a long story."

"Come in please," the woman stated hastily to cover her sudden shock at seeing who stood on her doorstep. "I shall make you some tea."

"Um, this is kind of embarrassing, but we . . . I don't know your name."

"Ester . . . Ester Roustin," the woman stated.

"Of course, you're my Aunt Harriet's friend," Dick stated.

"Oh my, I . . . I cannot believe it," Ester said reaching for the young man who stood beside a teen and a taller man by at least four inches. "You're Mary's boy . . ."

"And me," Tim stated.

The woman turned toward Tim, her eyes growing wide as she remembered another time long gone.

"You're her second . . ." The woman reached toward Tim as well. "I never dreamed I would ever see . . ."

"Why didn't you?" Bruce asked, his voice a whisper, almost accusatory.

"What?"

"If you knew, why didn't you come forward?" Bruce asked, this time rephrasing the question.

"I couldn't."

"I don't understand? I had grandparents whom I could have lived with all this time?" Dick said astounded. "Why didn't you come and see me? You had to have known . . ."

"Of course we knew . . . There was nothing I could do. Your grandfather . . . Your grandfather disowned your mother when she ran away and married . . . that man from the circus. I pleaded with him, but your grandfather refused to listen. I tried to find out where your mother was . . . but . . . then I heard she had a child . . . I wanted to see you so badly."

"Why didn't you?" Dick said, tears starting to stream down his face.

"You don't understand. Your grandfather hated your father. He blamed him for taking our only child from him. And when you were born, he forbade me to have anything to do with you. When we learned that our daughter was killed along with . . . her husband . . . I feared you were dead too. I wanted so much to bring you here to live with us . . . but . . . your grandfather refused. And by the time we would have any claim on you . . . it was too late."

Tim saw the sorrow in Dick's eyes of the life he might have had. 'Dick could have had a normal childhood,' But Tim knew that was a falsehood. He remembered seeing the rage that had been burning in Dick's eyes with regards to his parents' deaths. 'He probably would have run away to find their killer and probably end up dead. Bruce literally saved his life that night.' Then Tim asked the question that was burning in his own heart. "What about me?"

"When Mary came home pregnant, your grandfather at first refused her entry. He believed the child was from . . ."

" . . . My father," Dick said bitterly.

" . . . Yes," Ester said sadly. "Mary told us about Jacob Drake and your grandfather accepted Mary back into the house. He pleaded with her to stay and to raise our grandchild . . ."

"You mean to raise Tim . . . but he wouldn't acknowledge . . ."

"Your Mother accepted your grandfather's offer only to stay for a short time until you were born," Ester said to Tim, ignoring her older grandchild's outburst. "We hoped she would have her child here in Newtown, but she went to Gotham as soon as she went into labor. She said she needed to contact the father. Once you were born, she returned to her husband . . . and you . . . you disappeared. We didn't know she had arranged to give you up. We tried to find you . . . but there was no trace. The doctors said the child had been stillborn, so we never pursued the possibility that you were alive."

"She gave me to my father," Tim Drake stated. "The baby that was stillborn was my brother."

"I am so sorry," Ester stated.

"Is grandfather still alive?" Tim asked.

"No," Ester stated. "He died six years ago."

"I guess we should explain how we found you," Tim stated.

"How did you find me?"

Tim explained that his father died and that he had been cleaning out his place. He left out the details of his father's murder, but explained his adoption by Bruce Wayne. He went into some detail about the break-in and finding the box of letters.

"The last letter told about a package that . . . my . . . our mother sent to you . . ."

"Oh, the package," Ester stated. "Your grandfather wanted to send the package back, but then your Mother was killed . . . and she had written before that she had sent the key to the post office box to . . . your father. She probably thought that the package would have been claimed soon after their performance here."

"He never read the letter," Tim stated. "It was still sealed."

At that moment, a blaring car horn went off.

"That's the car alarm," Bruce exclaimed.

"The package!" Tim shouted. "I hid it in the back seat."

The three males ran out of the house, just in time to see someone snatching the package from the back seat.

"STOP!"

"Dick wait!"

Dick leapt after the thief but barely snagged the man's black coat, tearing it as the man climbed onto a motorcycle and sped away.

"I missed him," Dick said disgusted.

Tim raced up beside his brother and spotted something on the ground. It was a book of matches. "We at least have a clue as to where he came from."

"Yeah, but what's so special about that package anyway and why would an ordinary thief risk going after it a second time? And how did he know where to find us?"

Continues with Part 12


	12. A Revealing Conversation

Forgotten Birthdays

By

AJ

Part 12

A Revealing Conversation

"I don't thing it was taken by an ordinary thief, Dick," Tim answered.

"We were followed," Bruce added.

"We've got to get that package back," Tim stated.

"We'll get it back, Tim. Only a collector would be interested in what's in that package."

"But we don't know what was inside."

"Would your father have kept a list of the artifacts that had been found at the dig?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah," Tim answered. "That would be in his filing cabinet."

"Did the thief go through that?"

"No, oddly enough he only went through the boxes that I packed. I hadn't gone through the filing cabinet."

"Then we'll go back to your father's and check for what might have been in that package," Dick stated.

"Not before we say our goodbyes," Tim stated. "We've come all this way to find our Mother's parents, it would be rude to leave now."

"You go ahead," Dick stated, somewhat harshly.

Tim could sense that Dick was still upset about what was said by Ester Roustin. It did seem odd that Ester had not fought her husband to bring Dick to Newtown, to raise him. Did his grandfather really hate Dick Grayson's father for taking his mother and was there something more? Tim knew Ester was hiding something in the way she had said that her husband hated Grayson, as if he knew him. It was also odd how he reacted toward Mary when she came home and told him that the child she carried wasn't John Grayson's. There was something in . . . what was his name? Tim realized that Ester never mentioned his grandfather's name.

'Um Bruce, I'll be right back. I forgot something."

"All right Tim. We'll check for more clues," Bruce answered.

Tim went back into the house to find Ester sitting on the couch and looking at an old scrapbook.

"I did not expect you to leave so quickly," Ester stated.

"We had something stolen from our car," Tim stated.

"Oh dear, do you wish to call the police?"

"Um . . . we already reported it," Tim lied. "I came back to let you know we haven't left yet."

"Good. I wanted to show you this. I've kept it all these years."

"Um . . . Ester," Tim started to say.

". . . . Oh please, call me Grandma."

"Is it all right if Dick calls you Grandma as well?"

"Of course, why would it not be?"

"Well . . . he's upset with what you said . . . and . . ."

"Yes, I can understand why he would be," Ester stated. "It's the fact that I didn't take him in, but I had no choice. I even asked my husband why he was so adamant about not wanting us to bring our grandchild home."

"What did he say?"

"You really don't want to know," Ester replied.

'I do, but I don't think you'll tell me. There might be another way I can find out,' Tim thought, so he changed the subject. "I . . . have another question," Tim stated. "What was his name?"

"Edward Roustin."

Tim pursed his lips at the name. He seemed to recall there was mention about an Edward Roustin in the newspaper, a small article about the owner of several department stores in Newtown. He was the richest man in the small town, but that didn't explain why Edward Roustin would refuse to raise his grandson. He changed his mind and asked the question anyway.

"Why wouldn't I want to know what he said?" Tim asked. "After all, he was my grandfather as well and I just learned that both of you even existed. And I'm sure I could get Dick to understand."

"It is wonderful how you care for your brother. But I want you to know your grandfather wasn't always a nice man. And he was into things that . . . I don't want to go into detail. It isn't right to slander the dead," Ester stated. 'Even if it was the truth, I've held the secret far too long. I shall not divulge it now.' She thought. "Here, why don't you take this with you." Ester handed Tim the scrapbook. "Maybe you and your brother can look at it later. I will tell you this much. That scrapbook is the only thing that I kept hidden from your grandfather. And when your mother was killed . . . well, it devastated your grandfather. Even so, he felt that to bring a child into this house would have been a mistake. You were both better off not coming here."

"I don't believe that," Tim argued. "I may have had my father, but Dick, at the time, would have had a family."

"Yes, he would have . . . " Ester said, "But . . . please don't ask me anything else. Let's just say your grandfather . . . would have resented Dick because of who he represented. But since my husband is . . . gone . . . there is no reason why you and your brother cannot come and visit this old lady in her waning years."

"Can I ask you one more question?"

"Sure, dear."

"Who was Aunt Harriet to Dick?" Tim questioned. "I heard of her, but I never met her."

"Aunt Harriet was my older sister. She never married."

"So, you kept up with Dick's life . . ."

"Oh my yes. It's not that hard when a billionaire like Bruce Wayne takes in a boy like Dick Grayson. It was all over the news. Sending my sister was the only way I could keep in touch with his life. Oh, please don't tell him."

"But how did he know her?"

"Harriet did a lot of traveling and she promised to look after Mary. She would attend every performance the circus did. Wherever they appeared, she would be there and let me know. Unfortunately, she wasn't there on that day. Our own parents died just days before in a car accident while traveling across the country. She had to claim their bodies and bring them home. Then she had to go out to California to settle their estate. So she never knew about Mary until after the funeral and after Mr. Wayne had taken Dick in as his ward."

"He'll find out soon enough," Tim stated.

"I know, but I want him to understand I didn't feel the same way as my husband did. I wanted him here, with me . . . but it just wasn't possible. I'm just glad that my sister decided to move in with Dick and Mr. Wayne to take care of them. Harriet let me know as soon as she could and we kept in touch as much as we could. I was very saddened when she died. She was the only family I had left, besides Dick."

"Your husband died six years ago. Why didn't you contact Dick then?"

"Please don't ask me that," Ester stated. "It was enough to know that Harriet was with him and that he was growing into a fine young man. I wasn't about to . . . take him from a life that he was accustomed to. I heard that John Grayson's brother did that and he was going to sell the boy back to Mr. Wayne. It was in call the papers. I would never do such a thing. Please, you better go. I'm certain your brother and father are waiting for you."

"I'll return the scrapbook to you later," Tim stated.

"No, you keep it. Maybe it will help your brother to understand."

Tim grasped the scrapbook in one hand as he allowed his newly discovered Grandmother to hug him. He then headed out to the car where Bruce and Dick were waiting. There was a lot he had to think about, but one thing Tim knew what he was going to do. He was going to find out more about Edward Roustin and what his involvement was with regards to the death of John and Mary Grayson.

Continues with Part 13


	13. Chasing a Lead

Forgotten Birthdays

By

AJ

Part 13

Chasing A Lead

Tim was about to climb into the car when Ester Roustin came out carrying another small volume. "Here, Timothy, you should take this with you," waving him over.

Tim approached curious. "What is it?"

"It's one of your Mother's diaries. This one was the one she wrote while she was here before you were born. I kept all of your mother's diaries over the years. She would send them to me for safekeeping. Her last one told how she and her husband were coming to Gotham. There were no more journals after that." Ester tried to make eye contact with Dick, sitting in the front passenger seat, but he turned his head away. She sighed sadly. "I hope your brother isn't took angry with me."

"I'll talk to him," Tim stated. "I'm sure he'll come around once he knows you have our Mother's diaries. He's going to want to read them. Thanks"

Tim approached the car a second time and this time entered the back seat.

"What do you have there?" Bruce asked. "Noticing the large volume."

"Um . . . It's a scrapbook," Tim answered.

"And the smaller one?"

"That's Mom's . . . I mean Mary Grayson's diary . . . From . . . Grandma . . ."

". . . . From that woman?" Dick said bitterly interrupting Tim before he could mention her name.

"Dick, it wasn't her fault," Tim tried to explain. "I talked with her. She wanted to take you in, but her husband . . ." shaking his head. "Look, you take a look at it. You'll see what I'm talking about."

"No, you hang onto it. I'm . . . not ready to look at it," Dick replied as he turned his head to look out the window.

Tim placed the scrapbook beside him on the seat. The tension in the car was palpable. Tim didn't quite understand why Dick was so bitter.

"Which direction did that cyclist go?" Bruce asked changing the subject.

"I think he went south then turned east," Dick replied.

"That means he could have gone toward Gotham," Bruce answered.

"Why go back to Gotham?" Dick questioned.

"My father's archeological journal," Tim surmised.

"What would he want with that?" Dick asked

"My father kept copies of all the digs he and Mom went on," Tim stated.

"Would he have kept a record before you were even born?" Bruce asked.

"I'm more than sure that he did. I remember him telling me stories. That's how he met my Mon, Janet. They were on a dig together."

"Where would that journal be?" Bruce asked.

"In my father's office," Tim answered. "But it wouldn't be obvious."

"How so?" Dick asked.

It's hard to explain. I'll try while we're driving there."

Bruce turned the car eastward and drove to the quickest highway route that would take them in the direction of the Manor. Tim's home wasn't that far from the Wayne estate. An underground tunnel linked the two.

"My father was a bit protective of the digs that he went to. It wasn't the first time. When I was five, I found one of his journals."

"You mean there's more than one." Dick asked.

"Yeah, that's why I said it wouldn't be obvious," Tim said. "I noticed that whenever my dad mentioned about a dig, he would use a series of symbols with lines and dots. I didn't know what it meant at first, until I realized he was using them as a code to protect the location of the dig and what was found there. He would use it for other things too. Most of the items went to the local museums. A few items he got to take back with him to the States and give them to other museums. He always felt bad about one particular dig, as if he never got to finish it, but he never mentioned where that dig was."

"Do you still know the code?" Bruce asked.

"Sure, it's really easy. It's finding the right journal."

All three fell silent. When they arrived, Tim led the way into his father's study. There were several bound books on a shelf that hadn't been packed yet. None of them were labeled. Tim picked up the first one and leafed through it.

"That's not it," Tim said. "My Dad never kept these in any particular order. You have to look at the journal date. Pick one. Dick you remember when you met my father. You might have an easier time finding the journal than I would."

It took several tries before the right one was picked.

"I think I found it . . . but . . ." Dick was hesitant.

Tim walked over to where Dick was standing. He showed Tim the open journal. Several pages were torn out.

"Damn!"

"Who would have known about these journals?" Bruce asked.

"Most everyone on the team I expect. My Dad didn't hide the fact that he kept one."

"Would he keep a list of the team members?"

"The team members changed from year to year . . ." Tim thought. "Except for a couple of people, my Mom Janet and two others. My dad wanted to be sure there were experts who could help the students who volunteered. Yeah, he would keep a list. That should be in the filing cabinet. My dad didn't use computers. Give me the date."

Dick read off the date and Tim went over to his father's metal filing cabinet that held his father's other files. He flipped through the folders and shook his head. He was discovering that his father was less than organized . . . until he noticed that each folder also had written on it the same code that his father would use in his journal.

'Even here he was trying to protect the location of the dig,' Tim thought. 'Can I hope that the thief hadn't looked through this?'

Tim found the list of names from the dig, at least he thought he did. The top of the page had to same coded script as in his father's journal. He deciphered it and realized just where the dig was and realized it had to be it. The list was around 20 people.

"Dick, do you remember how many people were at the dig?"

Dick had to think back to that time. "I vaguely remember there was around 100 people."

"100?" Tim was surprised at that.

"Yeah, but only around 20 came with us to escape a civil war."

"A civil war?"

"Where were you?" Tim asked.

"Slovenia," Dick answered.

Tim looked at the coded name on the sheet of paper and on the folder. It matched with what Dick had just told him.

"It looks like we found our list of suspects," Tim stated. "But that's 20 people."

"We can eliminate most of these," Bruce replied.

"That's right," Dick said. "Most of them were students."

"Who's to say that a student didn't steal those artifacts," Tim stated.

"Did, every student know that your father kept a journal?"

"No," Tim answered.

"What about the letters that he wrote . . ."

"I don't think so . . . That was before my time," Tim said. "But . . . " Tim flipped through several more pages and found one person's name that came up nearly on all of his father's digs, including one that he had forgotten about. It was one of the first digs that he had been on. His parents had been accused of stealing artifacts. It was the quick thinking of this man that kept his parents from going into an Egyptian jail. "Martin Olsen."

"Martin Olsen?" Bruce asked. "I heard of that name. He runs his own commercial gallery. I've purchased a few items from him. He deals in some very rare and exclusive items."

"Antiquities?" Tim asked.

"Yes, now that you mention it."

"Makes me wonder how he acquired some of them," Tim stated. He then moved to another cabinet and pulled out another box.

"What's that?" Dick asked.

"My Dad would take pictures of every item he found on record. He took slides. Here they might be in here, but I don't know since I wasn't there."

"Technically, I never saw any of the stuff, but it might help us know what was inside that package if my Dad had taken pictures and maybe if they show up in Olsen's Gallery, we'll know he's been dealing in stolen goods."

"I don't know if we can," Bruce stated. "You reported the break-in at your old home, but we didn't report the break-in of the car."

"What are we going to do?" Tim exclaimed.

"For now, go back to the cave and see what we can learn about Martin Olsen," Bruce stated.

Continues with Part 14

**A/N: I am currently working on Part 14 so the same notice applies. I will do what I can to get the next part up, but it could take a few days, and I will be gone Saturday Night, and we have Halloween as well. Be patient and all will be revealed in time.**


	14. Unforseen Truth

_**A/N: Sorry this took a while. Had a couple things that prevented me from posting. One an overnight camp out, the last one that my martial arts instructor hosted. Two, I was bitten by a brown spider and had to make certain it wasn't a brown recluse. Hopefully you will enjoy this next part. Even it became eye opening for me.**_

Forgotten Birthdays

By

AJ

Part 14

The three returned to the Manor in silence just as they had when they left. Tim noticed that Bruce and Dick were determined to find out more on Martin Olsen. They went into Bruce's study while Tim decided to go down to the cave. He was still thinking about Edward Roustin and what Ester had said about the man, that he wasn't always nice and that he hated John Grayson.

'It sounded like he acted as if Mary Grayson was stolen from him,' Tim thought. "I wonder if there was anything on Edward Roustin.'

Tim sat at the computer and started a search. Ester had given him his full name, Edward Joseph Roustin. When he began the search, the computer didn't tale long to prompted him with the answer.

'What . . . there's nothing? That can't be right. There's got to be something in the system about the man,' Tim thought. He typed in another query and got the same results, no birth certificate, no social security number, not even a driver's license. 'That's impossible. How could the man own three businesses and a house almost as large as Wayne Manor and not have any identification? Unless . . .'

Tim tapped into the police blotter of Newtown. Within moments he was looking at another failed attempt at trying to find Edward Roustin.

'What if I just do a general search on the name Roustin on any server?' Tim typed in his query a third time, this time getting results he did not expect. He read the answered query then clicked on the link. 'That's close enough for it to be right. Could also be a clerical error in the spelling.' Tim read the record that he found. 'That doesn't sound like the man. Is there a photo?'

Tim added to the query and an old photograph popped up, but he didn't expect to find it in the place that he did. It was within the Gotham Police database. What struck him was how young the man looked, and comparing it to the image that Ester Roustin had sitting in her living room. It was the same man, because of the shape of the nose and the eyes. They were a gray color that looked like steel. So, Mr. Edward Roustin was really Edwardo Rostini, a small time pimp turned pornography filmmaker.

'I wonder what happened to have him move to Newtown. Witness protection? That can't be it. Didn't alter his name much.'

Tim typed in a few more codes and queries until he came up with the answer. He read how Edwardo Rostini turned states evidence against not only a small mob boss in Gotham, but he also turned in two crooked cops working for that boss. The small time pimp got a slap on the wrist for his crimes and was escorted out of Gotham with a warning to stay away from Gotham's streets, causing a chill to run down Tim's spine. There was something odd about that arrangement. It seemed, Edwardo Rostini could not totally keep his hands or his nose clean.

Tim hacked into the Newtown newspaper resources and soon came across a newspaper article of a young Edward Roustin and Antonio Zucco becoming business partners in a department store. He read that . . .

'Wait . . . Roustin and Zucco were business partners?' Tim's eyes became wide. 'When was that?' He read the article again. Antonio Zucco must have been Anthny Zucco's father. The article mentions Armanno having three sons. The article went on to say that Roustin had married Ester Marie Puccini, a distant cousin to the Zucco boys on their grandmother's side.

'So, Roustin became part of the Zucco family. I bet that's one of the reasons why Mary Roustin ran away. She didn't want to be associated with the Zuccos,' Tim stated. 'Dick would be shocked if he knew that Tony Zucco was a relative and he killed his own second or was it third cousin.'

Tim read more newspaper articles, how Anthony Zucco took over his father' business from his sudden death, and the report of a sudden rise in the crime rate. Articles for Edward Roustin were right along side of those of Anthony Zucco's rise to power. Later the articles took on a strange tone. The articles suddenly became more neutral and inconsequential, as if something happened to the writer. Soon after that, the birth announcement of Mary Jane Roustin and the opening of a third department store belonging to Edward Roustin was also announced. Three department stories in a town barely of 15,000 seemed odd. He couldn't be doing that well. Tim went back to look at the police blotter and realized that at the same time Edward Roustin was opening his third department store, there was a major jump in the area of prostitution. Could Edward be continuing his old business, but this time under Anthony Zucco? Zucco was known for extortion, gambling, and racketeering. Shaking down businesses for protection money was more his game.

A sinister picture started to form in Tim's mind. In order for "Edwardo Rostini" to continue his lucrative business practices, he had to have a cover, a very convincing cover, and one that would afford him the necessary protection from people like Tony Zucco. Zucco did not like others muscling into his business, but if he were to take someone like Edwardo Rostini under his wing and set him up in business in an area he wasn't familiar with, but could cash in, that just might send up red flags, and yet no one suspected that Edward Roustin being a member of Tony Zucco's business. Roustin was the picture of a perfect citizen, a businessman who loved his small family and appeared to be a wizard at growing the kind of business that would make a man wealthy. And it was all a front.

Speculation abound. Tim was beginning to see the connection, one that he really wished he hadn't found. Edward Roustin didn't want his daughter to marry a circus performer because it would have taken her away from the family businesses. It would take her away from the Zuccos. And even if they were only related by marriage, Edward Zucco might have had sights on having his daughter marry within the family, but which one. Frank Zucco, the youngest of the three was reported killed in a car accident. Mary and Frank were only three years apart in their age, so there could have been a marriage there if he had lived. Could it have been with Tony or Ralph?

Tim decided to find out exactly when Mary left and when she married John Grayson. It wasn't easy locating the marriage license. It turned out she married John Grayson three years after she supposedly had left Newtown. Apparently she caught up with the circus in Metropolis. She was listed as a new performer for the high wire act. Soon after their marriage, the circus left for their winter home. Edward Roustin could have gone after his daughter then, but he hadn't. Perhaps he didn't know that she had run away to the circus. Not much was known during that time. And even if he could have followed her to get his daughter back, Edward Roustin didn't. Was it possible that Ester talked him out of it? Or did he really not know that his daughter had married John Grayson until the circus had returned to Gotham almost nine years later. There didn't seem to be a trail at this point.

Tim blew out a long sigh. 'It's going to be hard to prove,' he thought. 'Then again, did it really matter? Dick's parents were dead. And Edward Roustin otherwise known as Edwardo Rostini was also dead. I've already proven that Dick and I are brothers, but how do I tell him that his grandfather . . . our grandfather might have been the one to order . . .' Tim lowered his gaze and shook his head. 'No . . . it's better that I don't tell him.'

Picking up the scrapbook, Tim flipped through the pages. Here was a life documented out of love and want . . . but could never have. It was obvious that Ester Roustin wanted so much to be a grandmother . . . was a grandmother . . . twice. But it was also painfully obvious that she had not been allowed to even speak about her first grandchild . . . let alone her second. So she settled on any bit of news she could find about Haley's Circus and where they were performing. At first they were about the new high wire act. The young woman pictured in the flier was indeed Mary Roustin and soon would be Mary Grayson. Ester knew everything about what had happened to her daughter. It was Edward Roustin who had been kept in the dark all those years ago . . . until . . . Until the circus came to Gotham that fateful day. Tim could just imagine the rest. And even though it was speculation . . . Somehow he knew it to be the truth. His mind played it out as if it happened yesterday . . .

"Why didn't you tell me?" Edward Roustin yelled. "It's been almost three years!"

"You didn't want to know. You dismissed it," Ester said. "I had to know where our daughter was for her sake."

"For her sake?"

"I was so scared when she left. I was afraid something bad had happened to her. She was only 17. She didn't even finish high school. She ran away . . . away from me . . . from us . . ." Ester started to cry. "Why did she do that?"

Edward Roustin knew the truth. It was written in his daughter's diary. She saw him that day in the unused rooms on the third floor. She saw the camera crew and the two women with their co-star. The door that separated the two floors at the top of the stairs must have been left open. She heard noises and decided to investigate.

"Dad?" Mary called out. "Dad . . . what?"

For a moment they froze, staring at each other. Then Mary ran down the stairs and into her room. She had only come to the third floor to ask if she could go to the circus with her friends. When Edward finally got his head together and realized what had happened, he went to talk to his daughter. He didn't mean to strike her like that. He only wanted her to keep quiet. He saw the deep fear in her eyes, fear that had not been there before. After that night, Mary Roustin packed a bag and was gone. Only Ester knew where she had gone having found the discarded circus flyer on the floor next to her daughter's bed.

"You were so angry that night," Ester stated. "What did she do for her to run away?"

"Nothing," Edward stated tight lipped and refusing to answer.

"It couldn't be nothing," Ester said. "You had to have said something to upset her."

"Why did it have to be me? Why couldn't it have been someone else? It doesn't matter now. She's disgraced herself and our family."

"Disgraced herself?"

"She hooked up with some circus freak?" Edward argued, his anger rising. "He did this somehow. He bewitched her. He took our daughter from us. I'll make him pay."

"No, please Edward," Ester pleaded with her husband.

"What's his name?"

Ester didn't answer at first.

"What's his name?" Edward demanded.

"G . . . Grayson," Ester stated. "John Grayson."

"Ill kill him."

"Please no," Ester stated. "You can't."

"Don't tell me what I can or cannot do," Edward stated, the anger on his face caused Ester to shudder.

"You can't," Ester repeated. "They're gone."

"Gone? Gone where?"

"The circus left several days ago. I don't know where."

Edward Roustin grew silent then stated in a very even and cold tone. 'From this day forth, our daughter is dead to me. If she returns she is no long welcome in this house. And if I hear that the circus is back in this area, I shall see to it that John Grayson pays dearly for losing our daughter."

Tim could well imagine what happened next when the circus did return, not so much about the events of that night, but the events leading up to when John and Mary met their death. It too was pure speculation, but it had a ring of truth. Otherwise why would Tony Zucco be interested in a traveling circus? There just wasn't any profit in it. A circus was transitory. It wasn't as if the circus was going to be there every day for Tony to milk its profits. Why would someone like Tony Zucco try to get protection money from a small traveling circus . . . unless . . .

. . . Tim's eyes grew wide at the thought and he somehow knew that Tony Zucco's protection racket was only a smoke screen. Tony Zucco may have given the excuse to get inside, but in truth, someone else had pulled the strings. It wasn't about protection at all. It was all about trying to regain a family's honor, and to correct a so-called perceived wrong. Mary Grayson wasn't the intended target, but she had lost her life just the same. The target had been John Grayson. In the end, two people lost their lives that night and an eight-year-old boy was left parentless and then homeless.

'And if it had not been for Bruce,' Tim thought. Though he did not finish what he was thinking. He was brought out of his revere as two people came down into the cave.

"Hey brother," Dick said as he came up behind Tim. "Better suit up. We're going to need your help catching a much bigger fish than we thought."

Continues with Part 15

_**A/N: Part 15 will be up soon. Could take a few days.**_


	15. Stolen Past

Forgotten Birthdays

By

AJ

Part 15

"Before you suit up, Tim, I need you to do a search on Martin Olsen," Bruce stated.

"Tim, what are you working on?" Dick asked.

"It's nothing," Tim stated as he quickly shut down the screen he had open and typed in the query that Bruce requested. He was aware that Dick didn't fully believe him and he could not help but notice the frown that Dick had on his face from the reflection off the screen as it momentarily went dark before the information on Martin Olsen popped up.

"Martin Olsen," Tim read. "He's a born Gothamite. Went to the Gotham University and majored in Art History. Worked as a teacher for five years, then opened his first art gallery 35 years ago. He owns three within the city, each of them specializing in specific kinds of art. The third gallery is what we're interested in. That gallery specializes in antiquities." Tim finished his explanation.

'I had not realized he was in business that long,' Bruce thought. "Has he ever been in trouble with the law?" Bruce asked.

"If he has been, it's not apparent," Tim stated.

"Explain," Batman's growl sounded strange coming from Bruce.

"Well, it seems that whenever there was evidence that suggested Martin Olsen had received or was selling stolen antiquities, they sort of disappeared from his galleries and ended up being recovered somewhere else."

"So, no one caught him with the goods," Dick stated.

"I would say that is exactly right." Tm replied. "If he is receiving stolen antiquities, how do we catch someone who's that slick?"

"There's got to be evidence out there that what he's receiving is stolen," Bruce stated

"He could be paying cash for the items then storing them until the heat blows over," Dick pointed out.

Bruce turned toward his eldest and a slight smile spread across his lips. "You just might have something there."

"Plus, no one may have reported the items as stolen," Tim added. "Look at the package that my father was supposed to receive. It languished in a post office, long before I was born."

"Maybe not all items, but there has to be some," Dick stated. "Maybe if we look at past reports, say over the past five years. Someone has to have reported antiquities stolen."

"It may be more than just antiquities, Dick," Bruce stated. "Tim search on reports of stolen art items and don't limit the search on years. We know this could be bigger than what appears."

Tim typed in Bruce's requirements and a sudden flood of articles from all over the world came up. There were literally thousands of articles, dating back years; articles long before any of the caped crusaders were in business.

"Now, narrow that search to items that were slated to go to the Gotham Museums, and not just art," Bruce added.

Tim did as Bruce instructed and watched as the field was narrowed. Instead of thousands, the number of articles went down into the hundreds. Many of the articles still were dated before Batman ever existed. He decided to sort them from the latest to the oldest in order to view them. Sifting through the articles, Tim noticed there was a large gap at some point, as if whomever was stealing the priceless items had been captured. He also noticed the articles became less and less.

"Now narrow the search again, this time since the first Olsen Gallery opened."

"Odd, there are no articles in regards to the Olsen Gallery. There was one gallery who reported items that were stolen and another where the owner turned in items that had been stolen . . . But nothing from the Olsen Gallery."

"Can you tap into Gotham Police Files and pull any photos of reported antiquities and artworks that had been stolen, say since the Olsen Gallery opened?"

Tim once again typed in a query and several images popped up on the screen.

"There was a valuable Chinese vase that had been stolen, but that was reported coming from San Francisco. Another small figurine of a rare blue marble from Italy was reported stolen. And there was a painting of a landscape . . ."

". . . Wait a minute . . . I know that painting," Bruce stated. "When was the painting reported stolen?"

Tim typed in the query and a year came up.

"I wasn't even born then," Bruce stated. "I was five years old when my father bought that painting."

"Do you know where he got it from?" Dick asked.

"No, but there could be a label on the back."

All three went back up to the Manor and into the living room. Hanging above the fireplace was the very same painting that Tim had pulled up on the screen that had been reported stolen from a museum in Metropolis.

"I was told that this painting was of an ancestor of mine who was a co-founder of Gotham City," Bruce stated. "The painting supposedly had been recovered after having been stolen from my family. Now I wonder if that was even true."

"Well we can soon find out," Dick stated.

"Alfred, could you bring us a step ladder," Bruce stated.

"Very good, Sir," Alfred nodded. It wasn't long before Alfred returned with the requested item. Bruce took the ladder and placed it in front of the fireplace. He climbed up and grasped the painting with both hands. The frame was heavier than he expected, but Bruce carefully pulled it down and looked on the back. He shook his head at what he read. A sick feeling entered his stomach.

Dick moved behind the painting and read the label, "Olsen Gallery, 349 West 15th Street, Gotham City . . ." Dick looked up to see the look on Bruce's face. "I'm really sorry,0 Bruce."

"Don't be," Bruce said. "My parents probably didn't know that the painting had been stolen from a museum in Metropolis. This painting has been missing for more than 50 years."

"Well, this could be considered proof that Martin Olsen could be dealing in stolen art, at least."

"Back then Dick not today," Bruce replied.

"What are you going to do about the painting?" Tim asked.

"The least I can do, return it," Brue said, his face a grim mask. "Alfred, I want you to check all the art objects in the Manor. I want to know where they came from. If there is any documentation on them, please get that as well. I want to be certain that everything is legal."

"Yes, Master Bruce," Alfred replied. "It shall be done."

"That's going to take hours," Tim stated. "By the time Alfred gets done, the thief could have sold the artifacts, even split them up."

"We're going to report the box stolen," Bruce stated.

"But we don't even know what was inside the box," Tim answered.

"Yes, we do."

Tim's eyes narrowed at first then became wide. "My father's journal, but the pages were torn out."

"Were they?"

"Wait, are you saying that the pages weren't torn out?" Tim questioned.

""Tim, you said it yourself, your father wrote in a special code and he was in Europe . . ."

"The date . . . he could have written it another way. I remember when I traveled with them to other foreign countries. And I would see him writing in one of his books. I asked him about it. He told me that sometimes you remember a day more than you remember a date. He could have written down the date, but differently, in code, to represent an important day. Then the journal that the pages had been torn out of, may not have been the right one."

'

"Exactly."

"So we go back to my father's house and take another look at his journals."

"Yes," Batman stated as he put on the cowl. "And we'll be waiting for the thief when he returns."

"But why would a thief return for a journal when he has the package?" Dick questioned.

"Because he'll want to know if my father hid any more items," Tim answered. "He'll want to know if there was more than one box."

"Would there be?"

"I don't know, but we're going to need that list to identify what was in the box so we can report it stolen."

"Let's go, we'll take the tunnel. It's faster."

One question came to Tim's mind, a suspicion that he wasn't prepared to voice. 'Who knew about my father's journals and that he wrote in code?'

Continues with Part 16


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